


Polyphony

by Scrumpadouchus



Series: Polyphony in Parts [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Play Fighting, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pregnant Sex, Romance, Slice of Life, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy, but not too much, lovebirds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumpadouchus/pseuds/Scrumpadouchus
Summary: AKA: The birds-in-love pregnancy fic that nobody asked for.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. So I was doing a baby clinical and spent all of January looking after mostly pregnant women, newborns and babies up till eighteen months old. I had babies on the brain, and played a lot of league.
> 
> This is what came of that, and the thought of; "wow I think Rakan would be really great with kids." 
> 
> I'm so sorry. I hope you all get at least a little enjoyment out of this.  
> 

  
\----------- 

Rakan rarely kept track of the days, but this time was different. This day was important.

  


Ten years ago today was the anniversary of their first meeting at the harvest festival. Ten years ago today, his life had changed to revolve around something other than whatever that could entertain him.

Speaking of which…

  


\- he rolls over and was greeted by an empty bedroll. It was disappointing, but not surprising. Xayah usually woke up earlier than him anyway. It was not a cause of concern.

Today of all days he had wished she would have stayed in and waited for him. This was one of those rare early mornings where they had no strict plan, no place to be. They could have lain together and if he was really lucky, he could convince her to take it easy for a day. Maybe today of all days, this special anniversary would be the time she’d agree to marry him. The very thought of her saying yes made his heart flutter excitably in his chest. 

But that would only be if some god out there truly favoured him. Xayah was an unstoppable force when she set her mind to something - it’s what he loves about her. She would never agree to marry him until she felt her goals were met; she would not allow herself that reward until she felt truly deserving.

  


_Where was she, anyway?_

There is retching from outside the tent. He sits up abruptly and cocks his ears. It was definitely Xayah. There was only a few more sounds of expelling before it transitions off into coughing. _What was wrong? Was she getting sick?_ He leaves the warmth of the tent and heads toward the rough sound.

“Xayah?” He peers through the forest foliage. The sun hasn’t risen yet, and it makes picking out her dark colours hard.

He’s not that worried. Not yet. Rakan weaves anxiously through the forest, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. He finally spots her hunched over on her knees over a running stream. 

“Xayah!” 

She dropped her hands into the water with a splash.

Their kind didn’t get sick. Not like humans did, at least. Living in polluted, magic sapped areas could make their kind weaker and prone to illness like mortal folks. But unless they got physically poisoned or targeted with some sort of magic spell, they typically stayed healthy while inside their own lands. Even stranger was that the natural magic of the wilds was in a better state than it had been for years, perhaps decades, and they were inland besides - she shouldn’t be getting sick like this.

“I’m fine Rakan, you can go back to sleep. I’ll - I’ll be back in a minute.” She coughs once more and leans down to splash clean water at her face.

There was nothing she could say to make him turn back. He kneels beside her and rubs her back. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? What do you need from me?” The questions fly out of him in a rush. She drinks two full handfuls of water from her cupped palms before calmly answering. 

“I’m fine, really. This has been happening for a while.” 

A while? How long was _‘a while’?_ The panic hit him like a stone to the gut. He was a terrible mate - how had he not noticed? 

“How long?” He uses his fingers to pick some leaves out of her messy hair.

“Around two months, maybe?” Her ears flick down and she avoids his eyes. “But it’s no big deal. It’s just a stomach bug, probably.”

They had a hard enough time sometimes getting food in the first place, let alone factoring in it wasted by her throwing it all back up. She was naturally skinny (with most of her weight hanging in her hips and thighs), but maybe she was losing more than he had noticed. 

“We should see a doctor.” He states. For as much as they knew about battlefield medicine and herbal remedies, this was something he had no knowledge in. Xayah’s face twists like she had bit into a lemon. 

“No doctors. It would be a waste of our time.”

“A waste? Sweetie, your health is not a waste. You need to take care of yourself.” He tucks her hair behind her ear then drops his hands onto her shoulders. She shakes her head. 

“I’m fine, really. _Really Rakan_.” She insists. “Besides, I don’t vomit every day. Sometimes I just get a little queasy around food, but it’s not too bad. I promise, I'm okay.”

He remembers their meals together, and how lately she would eat smaller portions and slip him her leftovers. At the time he had thought nothing of it. He was so stupid. How could he not see something was wrong? It could be a parasite. It could be a curse from some profane occultist. Anger starts to bubble in place of the panic. He'd kill them. He'd find out who did this to her and make sure they wouldn't be able to do it again.

His indecision must have shown on his face, because Xayah takes his hands in hers and asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” He says immediately. He'd follow her to hell and back without doubting her for a minute.

“Then believe me; I’m fine. This is absolutely not serious at all. If it gets worse we can go find a doctor.” 

He exhales slowly, taking in her determination. Xayah wouldn’t risk her cause over something like this. Perhaps she really was fine. At the very least he trusted her to get help if it starts to escalate. He’ll keep a closer watch on her from now on too.

“Okay.” He stands, then extends a hand to help her to her feet. “Do you want to return to bed, rest up a little? It’d make me happy.” He stretches the first syllable of happy like a child whining for a toy. 

Xayah wipes her face one last time before nodding, and they walk back hand in hand. When he picks her up and carries her into the tent she giggles like a child, and when he shut the tent and laid her down the matter was shoved to the side.

While they were snuggling together after, Rakan traced invisible designs on her back and asked; _will you marry me_? 

Xayah replied; _no, maybe tomorrow_. But pulled him in for another kiss and the matter was forgotten entirely. 

  


\---

  


As it turned out, Xayah’s weak stomach didn’t disappear over time. Months passed, and they got swept up in the thrill of fighting, liberation, and recruitment once again. In comparison to the constant danger and the stress, the nausea became a mere afterthought during their days, a queer malady that soon became her norm. She still ate like a bird, eating sparse amounts and shoving the extra to him. But at night and when bathing he’d get a good look at her and was surprised to see that despite all her sickness, her tummy was starting to jut out a little bit. This was good. She couldn’t be that sick if she was gaining weight despite eating less. 

But she got embarrassed and worried about getting fat whenever he mentioned it, so he stopped bringing it up (though he continued to admire it) and the worry of her being ill at all fell by the wayside until eventually they realised that Xayah hadn’t felt ill or nauseous in weeks. 

It was strange, but perhaps this was some side effect of magic’s return. 

  


He wasn't going to question it. 

  


\--- 

It was around this time that their associates began to act weird.

Their fellow Lhotlan colleagues they met up with from time to time didn’t change, but as they travelled from clan to clan, spreading the word, recruiting and encouraging resistance people’s reactions to them started to differ.

Perhaps it was their surprise at seeing them together. In the Vastayan world, everyone knew Rakan, _everyone_. His name was even familiar to the human villages near their territory. But not many really knew for sure that he was part of the revolution, and even fewer knew that they were lovers. Even those they’ve camped and traveled with were never let in on the secret - not that it was any of their business - but the biggest reasoning was that Rakan’s usefulness at gathering intel or scoping out areas would be severely gimped if his name became too strongly associated with hers. Even now, over ten years since they joined forces, they managed to keep it somewhat quiet. Most of the people they fought against never survived to spread the word of their collaboration after all. 

So they were careful in their affection around strangers and newcomers. Rakan always went ahead of her whenever they were in human lands, and tended to enter bars and inns first. But in the Ionian highlands they’d stand together; since word of her was gotten and passed along by scouts long before she’d arrive, and their reaction to her presence would be known the moment they entered another group’s territory. There was no need to fake cordiality by sending Rakan in first. 

The Vastaya may be slow to rise to action, but they didn’t bullshit about their feelings and intentions. She liked it.

That’s why this mixed reaction to her now was so odd.

 _You’re the leader? Really?_ They’d say now, equal parts impressed yet looking unsure. _Are you sure that’s really the best idea?_

 _Of course, what are you talking about?_ She’d ask, because if it was a question of her capability, her age, or sex she’d be willing to fight it, but upon seeing her affront they always changed the subject. 

She’d show them all anyway. Most who were unsure about her cause in the beginning came around to her eventually, and this would be no different. 

  


\---

Xayah sat near their fire, sketching out a route over a rough map of the prison. There was only one way in or out so far as they could see, which came with its own brand of problems. Getting in would be fine, but unless they killed everybody else first, trying to escape with prisoners would be nigh impossible.

That was fine by her though. But did they have the man power to pull it off? Too many causalities would lower morale. Usually they ran a distraction, did priority targets and escaped leaving most still alive. But this time it didn’t look to be possible since they’d be funneled too hard.

She taps her quill against the parchment a few times, and glares hard enough to burn holes through it.

It was only her at this. Rakan was off laughing and sparring with some of their group. They were camping with about twelve this time, and many were off tending to their own cook fires or orbiting Rakan like moths to flame. It was quiet and easier to concentrate, but at the same time she kind-of missed him. _This is stupid_ , she thinks, _he’s only a few hundred metres away_.

There’s rustling and she looks up, expecting to see Rakan coming back with another attempt at convincing her to join the fun.

Instead one of their scouts is there, a female from the rabbit-like Kaniji tribe with long brown ears framed by short cropped hair. _Her name’s Ryilee_ , Xayah recalls, and nods to acknowledge her presence.

Ryilee looks cautious. Not too far off her norm, considering her combat position as scout and look out, but she seems way too wary considering this was just a one on one with her. Xayah knew she could be intimidating sometimes, but Ryilee had been traveling with them for about a month now, she should be past this shyness.

“Xayah… um do you have a minute?” She fiddles with her thumbs a bit. Her nails are pink with polish made from snake venom. 

“Of course.” She lowers the quill. 

“We have another camp raid coming up, right? I was talking to the others, and we just want you to know that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. We’ve come a long way, we’re more than capable of handling it ourselves.”

Xayah frowns. Where was this coming from? It was surprising, but they must not think her capable. After this long without opposition she thought it wouldn’t be possible. Maybe they were doubting her ability to lead due to some mistake… she scours her memory of the past month and tries to recall any botched missions or disagreements between her and the others.

“I’m not sick or anything, if that’s what you’re implying. Have I been a bad leader? Do you doubt my ability to fight with you or lead you all? Because if so, I’ll be glad to let you hear suggestions at what we should do.”

“No no no no - “ Ryilee begins to get flustered, shaking her head so rapidly her long rabbit ears almost smack her face.

“We just mean, you should take care of yourself. Don’t risk this for us. We need you as a leader, but we can wait until you’re ready. None of us want you to force yourself to fight if you feel like it’s too much. We’ll gladly take orders from the back line if it’s safer for you both.”

She hadn’t gotten injured recently either, and despite Rakan always insisting that she rest, her mental health recently had been pretty good too. Or at least, not worse than usual.

“’ _You both?_ ’ Do you think me and Rakan would let other people fight our cause for us?”

“No, I mean, the baby - “ Ryilee sputters, “surely you don’t want to risk anything happening to him or her. I know you haven’t made a formal announcement to us yet, but we all just want you to know that we don’t want you to push yourself, and we understand.” She took one of Xayah’s hands and clutched it earnestly. “We can function without you for a little while, just like all the other groups you inspired throughout Ionia.”

“Baby? What baby?” Xayah didn’t know what the hell she was on about. There were hardly any babies, that was one of the reasons their kind was suffering. A low birth rate from immortality was further diminished from an inability to conceive in a magic starved land. How could a body create another half-magic being if the earth had no magic to spare for its creation? Yes, things were better now than it used to be, by quite a long shot, but…

Ryilee stares at her blankly, mirroring her own confusion, but then her face colours pink like a sunburn. She pulls back, hands raised in front of her.

“O-oh. Um. I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Xayah was turning cold, an inkling of fear creeping under her skin, increasing exponentially at each memory of every night together without protection. It should’ve been fine even without ingesting birth control herbs, their kind had been incapable for _so long_.

Ryilee takes a step backwards, twiddling her thumbs.

“Nevermind. I’m going back now - “

She attempts to dart away but Xayah grabs her arm by the elbow joint and pulls her back.

“Don’t you dare.” She hisses. “Explain. Now.” 

Ryilee trembles, and swallows shakily before she speaks.

“You. smell like Rakan. Not in a…. _’we share the same tent,’_ or _‘we’re mated’_ sort of way. You smell like hormones _and_ him, and it’s been this way for a long while. I thought you knew, I thought you just didn’t want to bring this up to everyone out of fear of looking vulnerable.”

The bird and griffon Vastaya weren’t known for their keen sense of smell. But the feline, canine and rodent types certainly were.

“I thank you for your concern, but it’s unnecessary.” Xayah says stiffly. “I think you must be mistaken. There’s no reason for me to miss the prison break next week. I would never quit before the job is done, no matter what.”

“O-of course.” Ryilee says, trembling.

“Thank you for checking in though. I appreciate you and the others concern. You can tell them that there is no need to worry.” This is said more gently, as Ryilee looks like she’s about to melt under the stress. She needs to find Rakan. She needs him with her _now_. She lets go of the rabbit-folk’s arm.

“Could you please ask Rakan to come over here?” She asks. “I need to talk to him.”

Ryilee bows slightly to her and dashes off as soon as her arm is released. Xayah is left feeling hollow and alone. 

She had to be wrong. There was no way that she could be…

  


Her hand ghosts over the bump on her stomach.

This wasn’t possible. She’d just gained weight, that’s all. Rakan was always at her to eat more, and now it was catching up to her. Xayah lays her papers to the side and huddles closer to the fire. 

Then she waits. 

It didn't take long - Rakan is at her side in less than a minute. He pries her arms away from her face and covers her cheek in kisses.

“My love, what’s wrong? Ryilee said you had to talk to me about something important.” He’s slightly out of breath from running over to her, and sweaty from all the rough-housing.

She could just not tell him. But if this was true, then it would eventually become obvious to everyone what was going on, and even he wasn’t that oblivious. On the contrary, he was strangely intuitive about some things. If she didn’t do something about it, about this, then before long he would know anyway. She couldn’t do that to him. What kind of person would keep such a secret from their mate? He was staring at her now, but it was clear that he was lost in his own head again, weaving some internal song about her beauty or some such. 

“Rakan, I need you to listen to me.” She takes his hands in hers and folds them together. His blue eyes flick back to reality. When she’s certain he’s paying a hundred percent attention, she swallows and takes a deep breath; bracing for whatever reaction that would come.

  


“I think I’m pregnant.”


	2. Fugue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are clarified, Xayah gets racucked, and then they go get medical advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! If I haven't said so before, the first two chapters happen chronologically in close proximity to each other, but after that we start time jumping a bit to different events. This fic is supposed to be a variety of moments, because I don't have enough time to make a giant 50,000 word bird fic with an overarching plot. :( Someday though. 
> 
> Also, we have no word of god to refer to when it comes to the reproduction and life cycles of their race, so I'm just gonna roughly base it off of DND rules, the elves of the Tolkien universe, and what logically makes sense. I'll do my best! Therefore, the length is gonna be about 3x the average human pregnancy length. (9-10 months)
> 
> Lastly, kudos and comments give me the will to live and keep writing! :D If you give me ideas of what to write I'll probably work it in somehow. In the meantime tho I already have the next few chapters planned out.
> 
> Thanks again! Hopefully you enjoy.

\------  


“Pregnant.” Rakan stares at her like she was speaking Raylurian to him. Shell shocked, he stays frozen in place in front of her, hands clutching hers tighter and tighter each passing second. It’s the only thing anchoring her to the ground right now.

“Yes.” Xayah bites her lip. “We don’t know for sure, but the others seem to think so. They say I’ve smelt like it for a while, whatever that means.”

What if he hates it? She hadn’t really considered that. There was a possibility that he would be upset by this, and knowing him he could react in any way. He was a charmer, a roaming performer from a nomadic tribe. He would probably be opposed to something that would pin him down. She squeezes her eyes shut, surrendering to his judgement. 

If Rakan was upset, she wasn’t sure if she could take it. She couldn’t do this - whatever this was - without him.

  


Then she’s being picked up and spun around like she’s a doll. Her eyes fly open as she throws her arms around his neck while Rakan is grinning so wide it looks like his face might split.

“Miella,” He looks so happy it’s almost blinding; it was like looking at a midday sun. “I can’t believe it! I’m going to be a father?! I love you, I love you so much.” 

Laughing with joy, he lets her feet touch the ground before pulling her into an all-encompassing embrace, wrapping his cloak around her tight as he rests his cheek against the top of her head.

Ironically, being squished against his chest and completely blocked off from the world made her feel like she could breathe again. _Of course Rakan wouldn’t be upset._ She hugs him back with a renewed ferocity of her own and it makes the whole thing seem a lot less scary.

“We should go somewhere private.” He finally says while letting her out of his arms. When she looks at him questioningly he jutted his chin towards the rest of their party, most of whom were still cooking food or sparring, but some were looking their way and could definitely pick out their conversation clearly.

“Alright.” She takes his hand and their fingers lace together. “You lead the way.”

  
\-----

They end up finding a grassy knoll overlooking a small pond. Sitting tucked into Rakan’s side, Xayah thinks of what three years from now would be like, and the sunny feelings of earlier relief flee as fear almost overtakes her. This was nothing like killing corrupt humans or shadow cultists. This would be a life in their hands, a future little person whose hopes and aspirations would depend on how well they could care for it.

There was something they hadn’t brought up yet though, some obvious unspoken question. They had a war to fight. She had a revolution to run. That was no environment to raise a child.

“…Do you want this baby?” She takes her hair out of its tie for want of something to do with her hands, then finger combs it out till it hangs in loose waves past the elbow, avoiding eye contact all the while. She didn’t know how ready he truly was; how ready the both of them were. She had put children as perhaps an event for the very, _very_ far future. They were immortal members of the oldest race in existence, even amongst the standards of their own kind. They had all the time in the world, literally, for kids. Hesitantly, she looks up at him and immediately regrets it.

Rakan looks devastated. His eyes were wide and full of grief, while his mouth was frozen partly open as if he was about to say something but had stopped, too afraid for once to continue.

He’s emotional to a fault, sensitive and attune to things she wouldn’t bat an eye at. Of course he would view this differently… She thinks that perhaps she worded the question wrong.

“Of course I do. Don't you?” Rakan finally asks, breaking the silence. His arm around her feels tense. 

Xayah worries her bottom lip as she ponders this question. He would be able to tell if she was lying. It was infuriating, sometimes.

“…I’m not sure.” She replies truthfully. “But I have a job to finish, and it won’t get done without me. I can’t bring a child into this - I can’t. A battlefield is no place for a baby.” The only thing worse than losing Rakan to the rebellion would be losing their child to it. This pregnancy would be a risk, one that she wasn’t sure she was willing to take, even though the idea itself...wasn’t completely disagreeable.

She’s sure he would be an excellent father. All kids seemed to love Rakan. Whenever they visited human villages, children would trail behind him, whining and picking at him until he’d agree to play. Then he’d get carried away, would completely forget everything he was supposed to be doing and she’d find him over an hour later, teaching slight-of-hand tricks to seven year olds.

It was cute, honestly. Her heart warmed when she thought of the possibilities, at the idea of a little person that is half of both of them running around, but just as quickly it froze at the potential of everything going wrong.

He makes a soft sound in his throat and rests his head against hers. She follows his prompting and tries to relax onto his shoulder but her eyes are fixated at the pond; watching the frogs on the lily pads, lost in thought until Rakan speaks again. He keeps it short and sweet.

“We’ve accomplished more impossible things than this.” He says matter-of-factly. 

He’s not wrong. For a while, it was them alone restoring their kind, and what they’ve managed to accomplish in just a decade was extraordinary. If there was anyone who could do this, it was them. It somehow solidifies her conviction. She shakes herself free of his arm and stands, taloned feet flat in the grass. The moon is starting to rise; they’d have to go back to their camp soon. 

“I can’t do this alone.” She says - as if there was any chance he’d leave her in the first place. 

“I’m with you, no matter what happens." Rakan promises, then he gets back up too and holds out a hand to her. An offer, should she take it. They both knew what it meant well by now.

Since when had she ever refused an invitation to dance?

“Do we have time? Everyone must be wondering where we are…” All the same she lays her hand in his and lets herself get pulled flush with his body. Rakan smirks and places his other hand on her waist before taking the lead; stepping quickly and she follows without pause.

“Screw ‘em. They can wait. “ Rakan retorts and his complete vehemence makes her laugh. “We need to celebrate! _Privately_.”

He spins her into a dip, pecks her on the lips, then pulls her back up to move in step again, dancing to an internal song of joy only they were privy to.

The next few years were going to be tough, but they had each other, and that was more than good enough. She could do anything with Rakan by her side. 

  
\----

It took a few weeks for them to have solitude again. Meeting with other tribes and getting assistance with any planned sabotage that would probably involve fighting was nice sometimes, but inconvenient in that she had to pace them based on the group's needs for rest, and sometimes training. It was also annoying in that it was hard to get time alone with Rakan, whether just to talk or for romance, and she didn't like getting intimate with him when there were other people around to hear, see, or tease them about it. She couldn't have anyone thinking she was unprofessional or easily distracted by emotions and love - it was hard enough getting some of the older Vastaya to take her seriously without people whispering that she was a nymphomaniac.

That's why she was excited to get back on the road alone with Rakan. For a little while they could relax around each other and act how their hearts wanted. There was still much regarding the baby that they had to plan. Well, _she_ had to plan.

The privacy to make love again was an added bonus.

The reality was however that their sex life had always been active. Before she was really showing, she could expect at _least_ three rolls in the metaphorical sheets a week - being young and in love helped with that. But once the pregnancy was revealed Rakan’s gazes and touches became reverent rather than wanting, and while heartwarming at first it started to become annoying when their nightly snuggling session stopped going any farther than that.

“Rakan.” She says firmly one night. “Make love to me.”

Sometimes the most direct route was best when talking to Rakan. His face flickers through a range of emotions, starting with a hungry narrowing of the eyes as he took in her appearance that quickly softened into adoration once his gaze swept over her baby bump.

“Miella,” He breathed and gathered her into his arms. Xayah hums and happily waits for his hands to wander past her abdomen to grip her hips or slip to her thighs. He nuzzles her cheek but goes no further. 

Xayah huffs and smacks him lightly on his bare chest with an open palm. He at least has the courtesy to look sheepish.

“Why are you like this?” She pouts.

“My love, I would happily but… what about the baby? I can’t risk hurting him. Or her.”

“So we wait two more years? That’s ridiculous.”

She couldn’t imagine that anyone else would ever abstain like that either for the entire bout of gestation. Not that she had anyone around right now she could ask. 

“I know. But, what if something happens? I’m not risking your life or the baby’s. ...I’m not happy about this either you know.”

His restraint was extraordinary for once. But Rakan was like that - some things he took very seriously and would never budge, no matter how much she poked. 

"Who told you this? It's ridiculous." Xayah thinks it sounds like some old wives tale, told to every open ear with no grain of truth to it. Rakan seemed convinced, however. 

"I was talking to a few of the men that joined us on our last mission - the two with kids. That's what their wives had told them."

She rolls her eyes. It sounded to her like their wives were looking for excuses to get out of bad sex. 

But she bites her tongue. “What if we talk to a doctor? If they give us the okay, then there should be no reason to hold back.”

“Oh. Good idea!" Rakan brightens. "That would be fine then.” Then he frowns. “The closest settlement to here is the Shimon tribe. Do you think that’s good enough? The closest Lhotlan one is weeks away.”

“Shimon should be fine enough.” Xayah replies. They were all Vastaya, and a doctor was a doctor besides. She could deal with only Rakan's hands or mouth for a while, but she missed laying _with_ him properly, the way a mated pair should. The feeling of dissatisfaction and emptiness that came after left her strangely lonesome no matter how much Rakan cuddled her. 

It’s foolish to feel this way, she knows, but this strange need for physical comfort had started after they declared their mateship, and hadn’t relented since. Perhaps it was a hormonal thing, or she was spoiled and too used to being pampered all the time; but either way it was out of her control.

It couldn’t be helped. They'd travel to the treetop village and settle this quick, then get back to business. The revolution wasn't going to run itself.

  
\---- 

The Shimon settlement had regarded them a little cautiously, with guards pulling out spears when they approached and asking their intentions, but seeing Xayah clearly and hearing her quiet request to see a doctor had them quickly ushering them into the settlement and led up a crude ladder to a tree-hut with no further questions asked.

A Shimon doctor soon entered with honey brown fur, lightened to a pale white around his chin and sideburns. There was a tiny pair of spectacles perched upon his broad nose, and Xayah suspected he had them for aesthetic rather than for utility. He was carrying a clipboard and inclined his head in greeting to both of them.

“Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Sihn. Congratulations on such a miraculous conception. I’m presuming you’re the father?” He takes an obvious sniff at both of them, and nods. “Smells about right.” He lowers his clipboard and waves a hand dismissively as if he just realised what he had said and feared giving offence. “Not that there’s any problem with that.”

Xayah sniffs self-consciously at her clothes. She still didn’t think she smelled like anyone but herself. But certain tribes had a better sense of smell than others, and this wasn’t the first time she had heard that comment. It was beginning to get tiresome.

“It’s none of my business of course, if you’d rather not say. I just need to know if you mind him being present for the physical examination.” He’s looking almost disapprovingly at Rakan, who’s flitting anxiously about the hut, poking at the tools and hanging bushels of drying plants. It doesn’t seem like he’s paying any attention. 

She shook her head, finally answering the doctor’s question. 

“No, that’s fine. He’s my mate - he can stay.”

The doctor seems almost disappointed that he’d no excuse to evict the other man. Rakan jolts at the mention, almost drops a jar filled with what looks like dried flower buds and flits back to stand next to the examination cot. “Yes, yes! That’s me. The proud father. Yep.”

Xayah wants to hide her face in her hands.

The doctor waits patiently, then when it seems Rakan isn't going to speak again he taps at his clipboard and asks his next question.

“Do you know how many months along you are? Oh, and you can remove your clothes now whenever you’re ready.”

Xayah slips out of her dress, watches it dissolve into blue fragments that faded into the air. The doctor checks her body over for scratches and tuts at a few bruises, but doesn’t ask any questions about it. Behind him, Rakan has stopped fidgeting and is at his full height, watching quietly.

“Um… No.” She feels vaguely embarrassed by this. Was this something most people paid attention to? It was a grey area for both of them - her moon’s blood hadn’t been regular to start with due to a variety of stress, bad environment and the occasional low food supplies, and she couldn’t even remember the exact month she first started to feel sick. It had all started to blur together after a while, and once she got used to it she hardly even noticed until it abruptly stopped.

“Not really. I started getting nauseous a long time ago, and we only really just noticed the bump.”

The doctor nods understandingly and moves onto the next question.

“Have you felt the fetus move?”

A flutter sometimes. Almost too light to really be considered anything. She thought she had been imagining it, most times.

“Yes, I think. It’s only a light tickle though.”

Rakan has the doctor pushed out of the way and his hand on her tummy in less than a second, paused and waiting. His face is glowing with anticipation.

“Rakan!” Xayah admonishes, but he pays no heed.

The doctor laughs and Rakan withdraws, pouting.

“What?” He asks.

“Not quite. You won’t be able to feel the fetus externally for quite some time. By my estimate you’re probably somewhere between eleven and thirteen months since you’re no longer having food aversion and you can feel quickening… but everyone is different and without any more invasive methods I have no way to know for sure.” He looks at Rakan impatiently, and he miraculously gets the hint and moves out of the way. The simian man then kneels back in front of the bedside and starts palpating her abdomen from left to right in tiny, measured movements. 

That was farther along than they had privately thought. She had guessed maybe eight or nine at most.

“It is very important that you refrain from shape-shifting at any time. Doing so could cause spontaneous abortion, and if not could severely injure your baby or cause stillbirth.”

“Anything else we should know?” Xayah asks. The doctor pulls back and ticks off each point on his fingers.

“Make sure you cook your meat well, get lots of rest and don’t push yourself. If you start bleeding, you need to immediately lie down and send for a doctor. Besides that, the obvious things; no alcohol, no smoking, and no ninim seeds. The fruit you can have in small quantities, but not the seeds." He taps his chin, wondering if he'd missed any other main points. "I still recommend you see a Lhotlan practitioner at some point soon though, because they would know about your body’s specific needs than me. Any questions?”

Xayah blinked. She was still absorbing his mini lecture. Rakan was a step ahead of her. Without missing a beat he asks:

“When can we start… activities?” He gestures awkwardly with his hands. The doctor tilted his head to the left.

“Physical activity can continue so long as it is tolerated.”

“No no no, I mean, _activities_.” He wiggles his eyebrows while sending the doctor a meaningful look. He looks a little uncomfortable, but thankfully he gets the insinuation.

“Whenever you want. There’s no risk to the fetus, even if you do… _‘go all the way’_ as the kids say. In fact, it’s good for your vaginal tone and for your regulating hormones. Good for bonding too - have you both been mated long?” Dr. Sihn pauses, but then seems to regret his question and holds a hairy hand up just as Rakan goes to speak. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Just don’t do anything after her water breaks, okay? I’ve seen things.”

“We promise.” Xayah pulls a face. She couldn’t imagine even wanting sex while in labour.

“Uh huh. That’s what they all say.” The doctor mutters and then stands, lowering his clipboard. The paper on it looks to be made of tree bark. It’s devoid of notes; she must not have been complicated enough to have warranted paperwork. “You can get dressed again. Do you have any other concerns? Or would you like to stay here for the night?”

“No, we're good. Thank you for all your help, but no thank you.” She visualises her clothes and they form on her. The sooner they get out of there the better. She had nothing against the southern Shimon tribe, but this was a diversion and they were in a hurry to get back on course. They had information to gather, territory to scope out and people to recruit.

If this was going to work, they needed to accomplish as much as they could before the baby made things impossible.

She couldn't wait to get back to the chaos. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real question is, will I be able to write bird sex? I'm gonna give it the good ol' fashioned try but I promise nothing.


	3. Rondeau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birds travel a bit, re evaluate some of their plans, and have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suffered while doing this. Why did I promise to write bird smut. _Why, why_ did I decide to write my first smut about the birds??
> 
>  
> 
> Good bye world, this fic will never be finished now, because I have to go leave society and live alone in a cabin without internet for the rest of my life.

  
\-------

Now every day he kept count. They didn’t know her due date for sure, and wouldn’t until they could find a practitioner able to examine her with magic. So he had taken the average between the two times suggested by the shimon doctor and picked twelve months. 

Though some time had passed since then; seven weeks in total. It had gone fast once they returned to travel and the plan at hand. Xayah hadn’t been kidding when she said she wanted to accomplish as much as possible while she still could. Even since then they’ve been rolling solo - well, duo, rather - and it was a refreshing change.

That meant he still had over a month until the halfway point. That was enough time.

“Hurry up! It’s getting away!” Xayah’s standing on a shoal mid river, slightly out of the deeper current but still getting splashed up to her knees.

He dunks and yanks the fish out of the river as the violet feather dissolves into nothing. Fish were easy to get so long as Xayah stunned or skewered them with her daggers first. It was like spear fishing, only more efficient. He drops it into their net.

Xayah spots another and hurls a dagger lightning fast. It glances the fin and the fish darts away in a flash of silver.

“Shit.” She flicks another two but they both miss. “Slippery bastard. They’re harder to hit than guardsmen.”

“We’ve got enough.” He assures her. Three fish were in their net so far. Their scales sparkled like rainbows. Rakan runs a hand over his own wet feathers.

“You think I would look good with rainbow feathers?”

Xayah crinkles her nose.

“Please don’t. It’ll be hard to look at.”

He couldn’t have that. The idea instantly flees his mind, interest in the concept evaporating entirely. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her shiver. He jumps back towards her, the urge to gather her into his arms almost irresistible. 

“Are you cold? We can go.” He wants to slide a hand up her arms but stops. His hands are frigid from the stream. It’d do no good in warming her up any.

Xayah acts like she didn’t notice. She adjusts her feathered cloak while shaking her head. 

“No. We need at least two each.”

She’s stubborn. She wouldn’t accept the two fish to eat if he only had one for himself. Not even if he begged her to take it. Faking no hunger and shoving his remainder to her had worked at first, but she caught on to that fast and started to stop eating exactly when he did, or when she got to exactly half their total; refusing to go past her equal share.

It wasn’t fair - she was eating for two, but she refused to accept a bigger chunk.

“Okay.” He resumes the wading, watching for flicks of movement, and his mind wanders.

His tribe highly valued celebration. Announcements of courtship and mateships were followed by at least a banquet and revelry, often lasting around two days or more depending on the season and resources available. But confirmation of a pregnancy - _something so rare and treasured besides_ \- warranted three celebrations with each at least a week long. First was at confirmation of the mother carrying, second was at the halfway point of gestation, and last but certainly not least was when the baby was born.

So far, they’d had none of that, and they’d hit at least three of those milestones if he counted the courtship ones - _which he did_. Xayah deserved a celebration in her honour. If not for her liberation efforts and the blood sweat and tears she shed for their people, then at least for _this_.

“Rakan - the fish!”

_Where?_

He darts his head around wildly until he sees it; floating downstream with the current. He dives into the river and grabs it, dunking it into their net with a triumphant whoop.

“We’re good!” He calls, waving the net in the air for her to see.

“You almost lost that one.” She chides, stepping off the sand bar back into the river. She’s wading towards him. Rakan treads to meet her half way, brandishing the net proudly.

“But I didn’t, did I?”

She tries to look unimpressed, but failed. Xayah’s scolding never was serious. She loved him too much for that. She gives him a light flick to the cheek, but that was about it before turning and starting back towards the river bank.

“Let’s just go eat.”

\---

They set up just to the side of the river, creating a little fire out of sticks and dried leaves the colour of hot coals, and speared their descaled fish on sticks over the flames. It was a sure sign that winter was on its way, just as sure as the forest’s song was slowing down in preparation for hibernation. It was getting colder, every day slower and slower. He didn’t hate it; white backdrops made him stand out more. 

But he worried for Xayah. Unnecessarily, of course. She would never wait through the winter in one place, twiddling her thumbs. Still he could try. 

“Honey, how about we take a detour.”

She pauses chewing and looks at him cautiously. Good, she was curious. This means he had a chance.

“Detour where?” She asks.

“My tribe.”

She swallows her mouthful and goes back for another bite, looking less interested than before. Rakan frowned. _This couldn’t do_.

“Why?” She asks. “That doesn’t sound like a detour.”

 _Shit. She was right. ‘A quick divergence’ would’ve been better._ He presses on.

“To celebrate. Oh, and for you to see a different doctor. One of _ours_.”

They were fairly close to the southern part of Ionia. This vast continent had almost all of its human colonization scattered about its southern parts, besides the rare few monasteries set a bit farther north from the rest of human civilisation. He was more than familiar with skirting the border of humans and their kind, and through their years of travels, by now Xayah had experience with this too. 

Barring her… first experience, as it were.

He almost growled at the memory of it. _How dare they touch her? Dirty animals, all of them._ Thank the spirits that Xayah was capable, even then as a naïve adolescent.

“To celebrate? Celebrate what? Is it the harvest festival so soon?” She rips the last bit of fish off the stick skewer and reaches for her second one, then stops. 

Rakan reaches for his second, and she follows with taking hers soon after.

“To celebrate _us_.” He says. “You haven’t met them yet, and I’d like you to.” He polishes off the rest of his fish while waiting for her verdict, and she takes another few bites as she mulls it over. He’d go with whatever Xayah decided, of course, but he hoped she would agree. They both needed a little break, sleep somewhere safe and properly indoors, and he wanted her to feel appreciated besides.

“Okay.” She agrees surprisingly quickly and throws her skewer into their fire. 

“Really?” He’s so happy he has to fight the urge to dance.

“Yes. Not for too long though. We can take a few days. But then it’s back to business. How far away are they from here anyway?”

Now that was a question he had no proper answer to. He couldn’t really describe it in sure terms, just that he could sense their presence in a general direction. How could he not? The forest sang louder whenever his tribe had been near, their magic presence feeding off of each other in a symbiotic loop.

“They could be anywhere, really. But don’t worry! I’m pretty sure I can tell where they’re headed.” He says instead. _Drat_. She wouldn’t be keen to hear that he had no definite idea as to their location, but rather just a strong gut _feeling_. But his gut feeling had never failed them before.

“How far?” She asks again, and stokes their fire with a stick. Embers fly up and bathe her face in an orange light. He marvels at her, train of thought briefly stopping. _Beautiful. How was he so lucky?_

Perhaps his eyes were glazing a bit, because she then prompts him. “Rakan?”

He blinks.

“Uh, maybe a week or more travel? We’re fairly close to humans right now. My tribe kept much farther north than this.”

Much _farther_ , this time of year. They liked to celebrate the harvest in magic rich places, and proximity to the mountains helped for when it was time to return to their winter lodgings. Right now if they made good time, without pushing themselves too hard they should make it in two weeks. It was still Autumn after all, they had plenty of time before the snow came.

Xayah still looks unsure, but she eventually nods. 

“Sounds good.”

Why would she possibly look so uncertain? Rakan hounds himself for answers. He hated not understanding something. It was surprisingly rare; typically he found Xayah’s moods easy to read. He looks up at the setting sun and slides a hand over to rest atop hers.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Of course.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He repeats. “Honestly.”

“It’s fine.”

This was common. Sometimes she got caught up in her own head, in a different way than he did. She just needed a little distraction. But that was fine; he could easily arrange that.

“Have you thought about names yet? For the baby? ‘Cause I have.” 

He feels the mood change fast enough to give him whiplash. He grins, happy to cause a little chaos.

“Um.” She pulls her hand out from under his and starts fiddling her thumbs. _So cute_. She always got flustered when he brought up things regarding the baby. “Not really. What did you have in mind?”

“Alright. Get ready.” He clears his throat and settles, sitting up straight and waiting until she was completely focused on him.

“I’m really proud of this one. I think it’s a real winner.”

She nods, leaning forward. 

“I’m all ears.”

“Rakan Jr.” He wiggles his eyebrows and pauses for her response. It takes a few seconds before she even reacted.

“Rakan Jr.” She flatly says. Her lips twitch up into a tiny smile. _Success_. “What if it’s a girl?”

“It could work for either! Or we could go with Xayah Jr. I think it would be great!”

Without even bothering to further respond she stands and starts kicking dirt onto the embers of their fire pit. Rakan gets up and joins her, and with the fire extinguished the forest around them is eaten back up a misty dusk. He squints and waits for his eyes to adjust. Glances up at the sky.

 _No moon tonight._ She’d like that.

“We could also combine our names together! Raya, or Xakan, if you like those better. But I still think Rakan Jr. Is the best choice.”

Xayah takes his hand despite rolling her eyes at him and his foolishness.

“Come on. We can talk as we walk. You need to lead the way, remember?” She tugs a little at his arm and he leans over for her to peck his cheek. “- thanks.”

He plays dumb. “For what?”

She pushes his cheek away until he straightens back up. “- and we’re not naming our child Rakan Jr.”

“You say that, but….”

“We’ll discuss it later.” She pulls on his hand again and he chuckles, letting himself get pulled along a little before eventually taking the lead.

No time for distractions; they had a long walk ahead of them.

\--------

  


Rakan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

What sort of red-blooded Vastayan man would he be if he hadn’t imagined starting a family with his beloved? Xayah was the first woman to make him feel that way and it looked like she’d be the last. It had been set in stone the moment he pledged himself to her; when he presented her with a raptor skull with a few of his feathers attached and she the same for him. 

They had consummated their love to finalise the claim and it was then that he thought about it first. It was an impossible thought - despite their kind tending to mate for life - due to not time constraints but the reality of their race’s dwindling power and influence. But Xayah was so small despite her ferocity, so perfect in his arms, and after they lay together for the first time he couldn’t help but imagine a future where he could start a family with her. But such a time couldn’t be now, not when they had an endless trek of battles and destruction ahead of them. 

Magic would need to return first. They couldn’t bring a child into the world if it couldn’t be free.

  


This is how he used to think. It seemed fate had different plans for them. Every day was one step closer to the start of their little family; he’d wake up with his heart singing and lie down at the end with an aria on his lips. Xayah was much quieter about showing her happiness; she was cautious in it, too afraid of it all being taken away again.

He would never let that happen. 

Rakan didn’t want to say it, but as they travelled North to find his clan the more he felt at ease. The farther they were from human civilisation, the better. He hated it when people stared at Xayah. It may just make her uncomfortable, but it made his blood boil.

Perhaps it was because they were more aware of it now and that in itself made it obvious to them, but she appeared to be showing a lot more now than when they first went to see Dr. Sihn a little under two months ago. He had warned that more weight gain happened during the last two thirds of pregnancy, but they hadn’t thought it’d be this drastic.

It meant that now it was obvious to not only them, but to everyone that she was carrying. For their kind, it was rare to see expecting mothers outside of their tribe past a certain point. For the humans of Ionia, seeing a Lhotlan Vastaya was a rarity enough, so seeing one gravid was unheard of. He was pretty sure that the humans still were unsure about how they reproduced.

Not that he wanted her to _hide_ it - he was proud, so _proud_ of her and what they created together. He just didn’t want people gawking. It would attract more unwanted attention than they needed - not everybody was on board with their cause, after all, and this could be seen as vulnerability. Besides, it was him they were supposed to be staring at. Not her.

The time with his tribe would hopefully be a good break for both of them. He needed to ask for advice too, after all. 

  


\--

It was getting close to dusk. He could see the sky beginning to tinge pink, sweet looking and spotted with clouds as fluffy as frosting. Now would be the time they would start to look for somewhere to bunk down. They split up as per their usual, scouring a radius to look for anywhere suitable.

Rakan weaved around trees, searching for somewhere concealed. No caves here, nowhere very secure. If it was warmer they’d sleep under the stars, but as it was now he wanted her to be as concealed as possible.

He wonders how Xayah is doing. They’d only been split up twenty minutes at most, but he already misses her. Maybe she’d already found a good place to sleep, and he was wasting his time.

That made sense.

Rakan spins on his heels and heads back towards where he last felt her presence. Xayah may be a better tracker than him, but their souls were connected now; he could hear her song even when she was far, a tantalising melody of highs dipping to lows, turbulent and fierce.

He heads in the direction of her symphony. Ready to jump in and take his place in their duet. Perhaps tonight she would sing with him, and her heart would be lightened. He hums and happily makes plans in his mind.

  


It was then that something interrupts the refrain, cutting it with a jarring yank of the chords. He flicked his ears and _listened._

There was a yell. _Men. Human men_. He knew it. They were still too close to human civilisation. 

The tune picks up, hectic and fearful. He needed to get to her, _now_. Terror ran through him as he ran through the brush, dipping under branches and jumping over bushes. He thinks of any possibility; her ambushed and stabbed, or shot with some strange hunter’s bow, grabbed by monsters in human skin with plans of selling her, either in parts or as a slave.

_Their child. What would become of it?_

He bursts into a small clearing, more on edge than he’d been in a long time regarding fighting. It was a dance, yes, but this time the stakes were much higher.

Xayah’s there, hunched over and breathing heavy, feathers and clothes slick with blood. At her feet are the bodies of three humans, the ground under them turning black. One has his stomach sliced so deep his entrails are leaking out and mingling with the dirt.

_Xayah._

He leaps to her and has his arms around her in a second, patting all over searching for wounds. She had to be okay, _she had to_. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if she wasn’t.

“Are you hurt?” 

“Rakan, I’m fine. _I’m fine_ \- really!” She withdraws her daggers with a flourish of her arm and he backs off, refocusing on the bodies at their feet. How dare they touch her? _How dare they attempt to hurt her??_ He kicks them each, over and over again as hard as he could until a firm hand grips his shoulder and he jolts.

“Stop! I’m fine, I’m okay… my love, they didn’t even scratch me. I’m fine, _we’re fine._ ” 

_Her and the baby... Both okay._

He stops, _breathes_ , but his feet still were blood stained; they reeked of the men’s foul essence. He spits on the biggest one, the one with the bear pelt with the head stuffed and worn proudly over his scalp as a trophy. No respect, these men. Not for the animals, and certainly not for them.

“They’re from Noxus, I think. Some left-overs from the raids that never felt like leaving.” She explains. “I overheard them talking. They came here to find better prey, apparently.“ She scowls down at them and finally steps away, their mere presence sullying hers. “They got more than they bargained for. Idiots.”

“You should’ve waited for me.” He scolds lightly, and she shrugs, long feathered ears flicking down.

“There was no need. They were all sitting there drinking, blind to everything. For hunters, they certainly weren’t very good. I didn’t want to let the chance go.”

He laughs then, and she startles a little at it. She was so strong. He shouldn’t have worried - it would take more than a few humans to hurt his love.

Still though; leaving her alone for even this long… he wouldn’t do it again if he could help it. Not in such populated territory. There was too much risk.

“Let’s go. Leave them to the animals.” Normally he liked the look of blood on her, but now it sickened him. They needed to wash this sludge off of themselves.

“Yeah. I hear a river nearby.” She offers a hand and they start walking again, much more alert to possible company.

  
\---

They only have to wander a little before they find it, feeding from some far off mountain ice into a lake obscured by a thick grove of trees. They must be getting close to Ottrani territory then, though he couldn’t see any signs of a group living nearby. 

“Here should be good.” Xayah was already shedding her clothes, striding past him to splash into the shallow water. Rakan dipped his foot and hisses. It wasn’t _that_ cold, but still it could be better. What if she catches a chill? He closes his eyes and wills his magic to channel into the water. If he could raise it by even ten degrees he’d be pleased. 

“You don’t need to.” She says, her hungry eyes watching as he undresses himself; unknotting the rope sash at his waist and stepping out of the green silks. Their form dissolves the moment they lose contact with his body. “You’ll get tired.”

“I want to.” He assures, walks a few feet forward to reach for her red-stained fingers. She pulls just out of his reach with a knowing smile.

Blood was speckled on her chin, mostly condensed onto her hands and her cloak now that her dress was off. She keeps her back to him and wades deeper into the water as her cape shimmers and separates into dark wings. He watches; transfixed, and makes his cloak also phase back to their original form, eager to join her. 

They’d be in for a good evening if Xayah was letting himself be open to comfort. The water was warmer now - at least, the water around his ankles was. Xayah lets her hair out of its tie next as she slowly wades deeper into the lake, stopping when it laps at her mid-thigh, just where her leg wrappings end. 

Then she looks coyly over her shoulder.

“Are you coming?”

He couldn’t move fast enough to catch up. When he brushes against her side she sits, the water reaching up to mid-spine. Rakan joins her happily and sits just behind her, though it reached much lower on him.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.” He notes. Sometimes one would wash while the other would act as look out, or if they were around others the males would all bathe as a group, and same with the females. 

“Mhm. We’ve been busy.”

“Dip for me?”

She leans back until she’s entirely submerged, then emerges while rubbing the flecks of blood off her face. Her ears flick, and she twists her sogged hair into a plait out of the way of getting caught up and accidently pulled. 

“Okay. I’m ready.”

He runs a hand down her folded wings, starting from the top and straightening each feather individually, row by row. Pressing the rachis in between his thumb and middle finger and pulling lightly down until all the vanes flicked past his fingertips.

Xayah doesn’t tense when his fingers graze her blind spot, and he’s filled with satisfaction. They’d truly come a long way. Grooming was typically a task reserved for mates or family members, and it had taken a long time before she allowed him to do it with her, even during their courting years.

“… Do you think they’ll like me?” Xayah quietly asks. She sounds so uncharacteristically hesitant that he almost laughs and turns the whole thing around into a joke, but sees her slumped head and refrains. 

“Of course! How could they not?”

“You _know_.” She insists, and something in her tone is insinuating some kind of message that he isn’t quite sure he understands. 

“What do I know?”

“I’m a freedom fighter. A rebel. Not exactly a sweet, quiet girl to take home to show off to your family. What makes you think they’ll approve?”

“Why wouldn't they? You’re driven, smart, and beautiful.” He pulls a little on a loose feather and it falls out into the lake, floating on the near static water. “Besides, I’m a rebel too.”

“Yes, but I started this. I dragged you into this.” 

_There she goes again. Guilt, over nothing._ Sometimes she got hung up over such foolish things. He could not even imagine anyone he knew not loving her; she was so strong and full of vision. How could anyone not want to follow her? It was the natural progression of things. 

“Nah, you know I enjoy this. We’re in this together, no matter what happens - and they won’t hate you. My tribe highly values strong fighters.” He switches sides and begins working on her left wing, gears turning in his mind. “Are you that nervous?” He teases. “We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’m not joking.”

“No! I want to go. I just…it’s been a while. Since I’ve been - you know -“ She flounders a bit with her words. He can feel the muscles in her wings tensing under his hands. 

_Oh, of course_. It’d been quite some years since she’d been among a large amount of Lhotlan-kind for any long length of time. She’d been a lone wolf for decades, and then mostly with him as a duo or with a handful of others from various tribes during their travels and campaigns. 

She was nervous of being part of a big family again. There was too much to lose. 

“We can take it at your pace.” He says and continues his finger combing, and eventually all conversation lulls to a stop. Xayah’s eyes have drifted shut as she focuses on the sensation, bobbing her head back and forth rhythmically. Rakan approves and starts to hum, soft and melodic as he works. Absently, she eventually joins in with a lilting memory of her own, layering her tune over his but fading in and out as his humming got easier or harder to predict. Line by line he worked through her plumage until he had covered the entirety both horizontally and vertically.

“You’re done…all clean!” His hands drift from her wings to under them at her back and started pressing his fingers into the muscles there, kneading away the tight knots. He knows she was going to be a puddle at this rate if he kept it up. 

He rubs down her shoulders one more time before stopping. She moans in protest. 

“Once we dry off.” He promises, and kisses the nape of her neck.

Xayah turns quickly then, splashing water everywhere and tugs at him to get him to swap places with her. He obliges and lets her comb through his own wings. Her fingers are quicker than his in her impatience. 

He laughs - _Xayah was so cute._

It didn’t take long before she withdraws from him and chirps;

“Alright. You’re done too.”

Rakan turns back around, grinning. “In a hurry?” 

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Maybe.”

  


Her lips are a vibrant magenta today. If he kissed them enough, he knew they’d eventually tinge as red as a deep wine, and he longs to see it. If it was warmer, they could frolic in the water together a little longer- swim and splash in a game of chase peppered with kisses, a prelude to the long night of just each other.

Not today.

They start a fire fairly close to the lake, fed it with dead leaves and twigs till it was reaching for the sky with hungry tongues of flame and placed their bedrolls and packs a few metres away.

The moment their mats are unrolled and blankets are laid down she’s kissing him, lips warm and sweet and hair still slightly damp.

They’ve come a long way in this regard, too. 

Xayah was beautiful, always had been beautiful. She was still light enough for him to lift onto his lap, fitting as perfect as a puzzle piece. She still fits now, though sitting face to face wasn’t as snug as it used to be.

They knew each other’s bodies as well as their own at this point. He could spend hours -no - days singing praises about her appearance; her strong thighs, round face and golden irises. Years if he could include her strength and tenacity.

“Rakan?”

He’d gotten distracted again. She’s watching him with soft, bright eyes, more stunning than any of his own golden feathers - not that he’d ever admit it. 

“Sorry, I was just lost in your eyes.” 

It’s a genuine remark, but she snorts and pinches his cheek.

“You’re so corny.”

“You love it.”

Her mouth twists a little, an almost denial that she can’t quite spit out. Then she leans in and captures his lips as a proper answer, starting off sweet but then growing fiercer, pushing against him like she needs him to breathe.

He felt like that too, sometimes. 

She’s on his lap and they’re both bare, but it’s not enough. Rakan breaks off the kiss with a bite then raises up and drops his knees so she bounces. He takes the opportunity to maneuver her from straddling him to sitting sideways. She laughs, light and airy. It’s music to his ears.

“You ass!”

She was strong, yes. But he was strong too, and he _knew_ she liked being reminded of it. Though she probably would never admit it. 

They knew each other well, but now he felt like there was new territory for both of them to discover. Their habits and tendencies would have to change at least a little to accommodate her development, and they were still getting used to it. He wraps a careful arm around her waist and grips at the distal part of her thigh, anchoring her against him. 

She has stretch marks now, a few little ones in red near her belly button. The baby bump had become much more than just a bump; he always waited eagerly for the time he’d be able to feel the baby kick. With a little wonder he caresses the crescent of her tummy, sighing contentedly. In response Xayah makes a little noise of embarrassment and turns her head to hide her face in his neck. He hums at her in way of a question - _what did she have to be shy about anyway_? But she grumbles something incohesive. 

“You’re so gorgeous.” He can hardly stand it; every time he’s with her he can’t believe she’s even real, or that any of this is happening. This time he can make out her words.

“Rakan... just take me.” She starts kissing his collarbone, nipping lightly every couple smooches. 

Xayah’s not hiding anymore, at least. Her wings are folded tight to her back, waiting on him to make the first move.

In a swoop he lays them both down and settles above her, throwing blankets over both of them for extra privacy, if not just for heat. For a moment the only sound is of the fire popping beside them.

He presses their foreheads together.

“I want you to beg me. Like you did the night we made _this_.” The slide of one of his hands down her abdomen made the message obvious.

Her breath catches. Maybe he went too far with the talk? Sometimes she would be more into it than others.

They had both been in debate for a long time about when exactly had been the night she had properly conceived. Even with an accurate idea of how far along she was, they didn’t exactly keep perfect track of _where_ and _when_. He had always thought it was during one of their last forays to the waterfall. Especially since she had been particularly insatiable last time, and what was meant to be a single romantic date night had turned into a weekend.

“Well… you’ll have to make me.” She issues the challenge with a gentle nudge and a quirk of the lips. 

That settled that.

Rakan growls and kisses her again, and she relents in her fidgeting, dropping her hands from his shoulders to his back, legs rubbing against his calf, a silent urging to continue.

It was comforting that despite everything, this never changed.

She tastes sweet, like spring and youth, and that hadn’t changed either. Tearing away from her mouth - now reddened and bruised from bites that he’s sure his own are a mirror of - he turns his attention lower.

“You’re looking a little different here.” He places a hand over her right breast and squeezes it lightly. He’d noticed they were a tiny bit bigger - now a proper handful - which was an expected side effect. They were still soft though, squishing easily in his palm.

He thumbs over a nipple, and pinches the same time he leans back in for a kiss.

Xayah’s letting him take control, conceding to his depth and acting according to his movements, and he rubs her until she’s red and pert, sticking out like it’s a freezing day. One last sweet peck to her pouting mouth and he drops low and places his lips around it, switching his hand to handle the other one.

He can hear her gasping each time he sucks hard and swirls with his tongue; her hands are continually curling and unfurling against his back. By the time he switches to lavish her left breast her legs are moving too, thighs raising up to rub against his own, enticing him to move faster.

“You didn’t get me pregnant by playing with my chest all day.” Xayah finally snarks. She’s trying to sound nonchalant, yet her voice was trembling like a newborn fawn’s legs. It’s satisfying in the best way. Getting her worked up was almost the best part of all this. 

“Just getting some time in before I have to share.” He smiles sweetly at her.

She scoffs at his faux innocence. 

_What?_ It was true. So what if he still had over a year? It would never be enough time.

He cocks his head playfully. 

“Something you wanted to say?” Sliding a hand down between her legs proves her interest. She’s slick and hot enough to have been worked up for a while. 

“No.” She insists, “This is fine.” 

The word is spit out shortly. He only hears a challenge. Normally at this point she’d be pushing to straddle him and would ride him herself. The only reason his own desire is manageable is because teasing her is _just so fun._

“No?” He presses his pointer and middle finger around her clit, rubbing in small, rhythmic strokes. He can feel the flutter of her smooth muscles, clenching around nothing. He knows she hates this; when he refused to enter her a few weeks back from worry she got all kinds of frustrated. Not that she hated foreplay - rather she got more out of orgasm if he was inside her, and it was a sentiment he shared. 

So long as he could have his fun first.

“This doesn’t feel like a _‘no’_. Feels like you’re a little eager.”

He withdraws his hand; her reaction is immediate, squirming and digging her hands into his shoulders like she wanted to leave marks.

Not that he’d mind that.

 _“Rakan.”_ She whines, exasperation clear in her voice, clear as the stars in the sky.

“Oh? Something the matter?” He asks innocently.

This was cheeky. He was definitely pushing too far. But everything was better when you waited, like food, or a hot bath, or collapsing into a bed after a long day. Xayah was normally so patient - this was one of the few things she would get overly antsy about. Sighing happily he leans back up to kiss her, and slides a hand back to her privates. 

In response her knee nudges at his groin, and he’s almost startled at the reminder of his own arousal. It freezes him for a moment, and at his reaction she smiles - full of self-satisfaction. Unlucky for her - he had more control than that.

Rakan tuts at her, like he was chastising naughty behaviour in a child.

“Come now sweetheart, you only have to ask. Do you have something you want from me? Hm?”

He pushes her wandering knee back down firmly and her thighs part like a waterfall. He traces a finger down from clit to slit; she tenses at his touch, and he hears her take an anticipating breath. She’s wet and more than ready - his need for her too burned with a hunger so hard he almost physically ached. Rakan lets her wrap her thighs around his hips, but went no further.

Instead, he finds himself admiring her once again.

She was small, and scarred, but his, just as he was hers body and soul. Some parts of her were soft as flower petals, the parts of her hidden from the world. This here, this was only for him to touch, for him to see.

Her eyes are molten gold, smouldering in want. 

Gods, he loves her.

 _“Please_ , honey.” She shivers as he scrapes his teeth over her carotid. He’d mark her there before the night was done, but she was carrying his child and wearing his feathers - that was more than enough. It was redundancy itself, but it pleased him to no end. 

_“Please_ what?”

He can see it; victory is in sight. She was a piece of rope, unravelled string by string until it was ready to snap. One last caress to her sex and she was done.

 _“Fuck me - “_ She demands with bright red cheeks, eyes shutting briefly as if she could hardly stand to look at him. _That was it_ , that’s all he wanted to hear. She’d be singing his praises now when he finally takes her.

“That’s my baby.” He grins. It was a small victory, but one none the less. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

He crests his wings wide, knocking the blanket off his shoulders and folding them down to enclose them in, blocking vision on both sides. Not that anyone was around to see them now. It only takes a second to line himself up properly and take a breath.

Every time they did this, the world was right.

It’s easy to part her folds and slip into her one slow inch at a time. Her relief is palpable; body deflating with a content sigh as light as wind through the trees around them.

Xayah clenches down the moment he’s fully sheathed and he grunts; she’s tight and practically dripping from his previous ministrations, thighs trapped him in place now that he’s in proper. She’s still gripping his back, pulling him in hard until they’re level chest to chest, breathing heavily like they had just been in battle.

Rakan feels her swollen belly and breasts against his body, radiating heat and almost curses their positioning - he wasn’t going to last long this way. Lying flat like this he’s reaching a little taller than her and that wouldn’t do at all. But she’s holding him still, even while digging in with her heels to his calves and minutely shifting her abdomen; a series of micro movements as she squirmed to take him deeper, pleasuring herself on him even as he’s pausing in an attempt to set the pace.

“Sweetie - “ He pries himself slightly back, reorienting to hover a bit off of her. No need to have his weight on her fully, especially since she was in this condition. “Let me take _care_ of you. It’s my _job_.”

She’s not used to taking him at full hardness immediately - that was his fault for getting so worked up from her body beforehand. Not that she would ever complain - one look at her face and he melts in adoration. Her pupils are blown dark and full, lips still trembling. She nods, a tiny quick jerk like a hopping sparrow and he feels her relax slightly.

So then he thrusts; pulling out three quarters of the way before sliding back in with a snap of his hips. The movement is gradual at first, but building up as she adjusts. By the second thrust she’s arching, by the third she’s crying out his name and he dips to kiss her. 

_Beautiful._ She’s more beautiful than anything. How could he ever have lived before learning her song? _Two-hundred, three-hundred, four_? The years were all _nothing_ before now.

He can feel it now, twisting, winding, _roaring_ up like a fire in his gut. He’s lost count of how many times they’ve done this, but it never ceases to feel like the first time, each time. She’s losing it too, with each pull she’s gasping, vulnerable and shaking, tensing in her thighs and enticing him further. Rakan interlaces their fingers with one hand and gripped her left hip with the other. 

It wouldn’t be long now. He pulls her up in time with him and moves faster, all while she implores him with a mantra of meaningless pleas.

Her hand squeezes his harder, and she’s pulling him down, down, _down_ , sinking as the wave of pleasure overtakes him. She tightens around him like a vice, and with a quiet keen she’s done, riding out the aftershocks with him still hard inside her. _That was it_. Rakan relinquishes his last shred of control and his vision goes white for a brief flash, muscles spasming and releasing deep within her as though it’d make any difference.

This was how they got into this situation, after all. Panting, he braces himself on his elbows and takes a second to return to reality and pulls out with an easy glide. 

Xayah takes his face in her hands and strokes both of her thumbs across his cheeks in a few slow draws, leading him back down for a final soft kiss on the lips before guiding his head to rest on her breast. A hand runs through his hair slowly, from crown to nape, occasionally rubbing over his unpinned ear.

 _Her heart._ He can hear it beat, quick and strong. 

“I love you.” He could say it a million times and it’d still taste sweet as honey on his tongue. “Marry me. Before the baby’s born.”

Her hand only pauses a moment in its caresses before it resumes. Her voice rumbles through her chest wall. This was all that matters. She was his world. Soon it would expand to hold one more member, and if they were lucky, others after.

Xayah’s slower to reply than most times. Perhaps this time would be the time she agrees.

When she speaks, it’s with a note of sadness. It breaks his heart; she should be happy, ready to sleep and snuggle until daybreak. _This would not do._

“…I’ll think about it. Ask me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you my answer.” She rubs at one of his wings with the hand not tangled in his hair, and he already can feel himself drifting off into a doze. “I love you too.”

“Miella, I’ll ask forever, as long as it takes until you’re ready.”

“I know.”

He tries to get off of her, if only so he could switch positions with her and be the pillow for her to lie against but she resists, shushing his stirring until he settles back down.

“Just stay.” She whispers, kissing him through his hair. “Sing me a story.”

  


So he starts, weaving a tale of a girl who lived hearing the voices of the stars, until she learned to fly so she could be with them forever. When he’s done she’s sound asleep, and he joins her comfortably, wrapping the blanket and his wings up around them both before giving himself to the void.

Tomorrow he’d ask again. He could hardly wait for her reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wHOOPS I almost gave Rakan a pregnancy fetish. I'll never do this again, I promise. I'm soorrrrrrrryyyyyyyy


	4. Ritornello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birds hang out at Rakan's place for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! I'm so sorry this is so late. Honestly I've been sitting on parts of this thing for so long and jumping back and forth in writing parts of this AU's timeline that I kinda forgot that I haven't updated this thing since February. Whoops. But don't worry, it will get finished - the last few months have just been busy. I just graduated as a nurse and I work 12 hour shifts, so I don't always get time to write. But I'll try harder to make time! I took a lot of liberties of making up lore as well in this chapter (since we don't have much to go on). So get ready for that lol. Also if this thing updates again within the next week or so don't get too excited - I'm probably fixing things and making small changes. 
> 
> I stayed up all night after studying for my licensing exam to post this, so I hope you guys enjoy it! If it seems kinda janky and weird, that's also why haha.  
> Comments make me really happy, but no pressure. <3
> 
> \--------

 

                It was dusk when they walked into a proper encampment.

Rakan brightened up immediately, waving and leaping towards the other Vastaya that he must’ve known since birth. Xayah hung back somewhat uncomfortably, pulling her feathered cloak tighter around her front and watching him float like a social butterfly while presumable friends and family swarmed around.

She felt out of place. It had been near a century since she’d been in a family commune. Before arriving she had wondered if they were all like Rakan, bright and loud with peacock decals, and the crew surrounding Rakan were similar but thankfully seemed not as brightly coloured - though it was close.

They varied in heavier, fashionable clothes, with long feathers like Rakan’s in duller yellows and ambers; multi-coloured with greens and blues that flashed in the light. The men had long hair styled with braids and bone beads, while the women had piercings and very involved hair styles that looked like they took the assistance of two other people to style each morning. Their clan facial tattoos were similar to Rakan’s with symbols on the distal side of the eyebrows and two sets of lines on the cheekbones of the face coming down from the sideburns, though they varied in length and colour. Many of them were tall, some even equal in height to Rakan which she never thought possible. She was a dwarf amongst giants.

 They were nomadic, or so he had said before, but were heading back to their semi-permanent settlement in the mountains for the winter. There was only about fourteen people in the camp at present. She had assumed there’d at least be a few more.

                 While surrounded by people, Rakan pointed over at her and she felt at least a dozen pairs of eyes sweep over to finally notice her standing there. Not surprising, considering Rakan grabbed attention wherever he went and she was wearing a dark pallet today. Then in a predictable rush they all flowed over to her, excited and curious faces taking in her unique appearance.

 _What is your name_? _Where are you from_? Some inquired, while others picked at her clothes with comments like; _So different! But quite fashionable_. _Tell me what inspired you to make this_?

Xayah looked to Rakan for guidance with a stricken look, and he swooped back over to put a hand on her shoulder.

“Relax everyone. Don’t crowd her. Xayah is from the Korpvei’ne, to the west.”

A gasp. Some whispered condolences while others simply nodded in sympathy. Xayah shuffles back and forth on her feet, distinctly uncomfortable. Those ghosts were mostly put to rest; she didn’t need strangers poking at her old scars.

“Thank you.” She mutters uncomfortably and fidgets with her fingers. She can sense Rakan hovering over her worriedly.

A hoarse commanding voice cuts through the rabble of excited onlookers, and the curious crowd falls silent.

“Give the two some breathing room. It hasn’t been _that_ long since we’ve seen my Grandson.” An older Lhotlan male declares while stepping out of a large leather tent, and everyone respectfully takes a few steps back while acknowledging the older man. Rakan perks up at the voice, turning his head lightning fast.

He must be the chief elder, Xayah thinks. His hair was white but so was his feathers, ranging from silver to shimmery translucent, and his face had the most elaborate tattoos by far; cranberry red and thick.

“Rakan. You’ve found us again I see.” The man smiles warmly and holds his arms out for a hug in greeting.

Rakan too is grinning wide enough to split his face. They embrace with a familiarity that Xayah envies.

“Of course! We were nearby so I led us over. You guys are in this area this time every year.” He looked at the crowd briefly and then turned back to the elder.

“Some new faces here! New apprentices for you?”

The older man must have been a battle dancer as well then. He was wiry and dense, only a little hunched. She could only imagine how old he was.

He huffs.

                “The young ones aren’t as interested in the traditions of the tribe as you were. You could show them a thing or two, perhaps it would encourage them to practise more. Ever since Asha found her mate and went to join his clan the young’uns have been training less.”

He said young’uns, but the Vastaya crowded around looked older than herself; at the very least three hundred or so years old. But perhaps to this man, they were all considered children.

“She promised to send her first born my way when they’re old enough. Though that may be a long time from now.” Ranauren says, evidently pleased. “People come and go, travel to other sister clans and sometimes return with someone else. It’s not only me that’s the draw.” He inclined his head to Xayah a brief moment. “Much like you did. Unless I’m incorrect?”

Some girls nearby enough to listen in _coo_ and _aww_ at his words, while others yell their disappointment, though it seems clear that they were teasing with fake displeasure.

                Rakan winks as his answer and everyone coos again.

“Where is everyone else?” He asks.

                “These are the slowpokes; the last group to make the trip. The others have already made it to the mountains. We traveled in smaller groups this year since last year there were issues… this makes it easier to avoid notice.” He says, face drawing serious for a moment. Xayah could understand where he was coming from.

               

Rakan’s hand slipped down her shoulder to rest at the small of her back and pulled her closer to his side. She again feels the red-hot pokers of everyone’s undivided attention going back to her. Her wing-cloak is still hanging half over her body, and with Rakan blocking half her other side she supposes that maybe they hadn’t noticed yet.

                “I haven’t met you properly yet.” The elder extended a hand to her, which she shook. “I am Ranauren. Pleased to hear your song, young lady.”

                “Xayah. Same to you.” She bows slightly to the elder.

                “I believe I knew your father. Vesro, correct? Met him about a millennium ago. Still had more down than feathers then I would say,” He chuckles. “but I remember he was a talented song weaver, even then. I am sorry for your loss. “

                “Thank you.” She says, more genuinely than before. “I strive to fulfill his vision.”

                “I don’t doubt that for a second.” He raises his voice and turns to address everyone present. “Everyone show Xayah a warm welcome! She’ll be staying with us for a while as an honoured guest.”

Everyone cheers and moved back close, again disregarding personal space. Some woman with copper braids and large sleeves lights up a large bonfire and that’s when all hell breaks loose.

People pull at her and Rakan’s hands, begging them to tell stories of their time in the ‘ _outside lands’_. He easily let himself get pulled in, loving the centre of attention as always. Xayah let him take the spotlight, and stood fondly to his side.

                That is, until Rakan leaps over the fire and begins to dance, feathers glowing as he spun. At his cue the others started; one Lhotlan male pulling out some string instrument while others clapped and sang. He eventually holds out a hand for her and she takes it without thinking, being pulled into a circular dance around the fire with eight others. Even elder Ranauren joined, though it quickly became a kind of dance battle between the two of them for at least ten minutes while everyone else laughed and clapped or sang.

The Riikinkusu clan was… loud.

Exciting.  Emotional. Free. Fun. _Proud_.

She liked it. This was how their kind was meant to be.

 

They went until late, until everyone retreated to their own tents, and they’re both oriented to an empty, single sized one by a shorter, spikey haired teen with orange feathers. 

                “It’s either this, or share with Elder.” The teen says with a cocky smile, then reaches inside the tent and yanks out an armful of blankets. “We figured you wanted your privacy.”

                “Gotcha." Rakan nods, "but Minwu, where will you sleep?”

Minwu winks.

                “With Esenna.”

Rakan grins back and high fives him.

                “Good luck.”

                “Thanks man.”

He darts off, leaving them both in semi privacy. Xayah doubts they’d ever get true seclusion here. Everyone was pitched with a little distance, but still far too close .

They had a week here. That’s what she’d given Rakan.

Even still they bedded down with their own blankets and some extra ones given to them by Ranauren. She didn’t like those as much - they smelt foreign - so she layered them on top of the ones they already had.

                “Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to everyone properly.” Rakan promises, then slides an arm around her. She makes herself comfortable on top his chest. “They were too excited tonight. “

                “Sounds good.”

They seemed a friendly bunch, at the very least. None of them seemed to have noticed her pregnancy yet.

 

That could wait until the morning.

*---*

Xayah’s roused from their sleep by the yells of his clansmen. Breakfast seems to be underway, either that or their camp was burning down.

Rakan is not beside her; his half of their bedding is cool and Xayah takes a second to stretch out in all the free space. Why would he get up without her? Rakan never got up early if he could help it, let alone leaving a bed with her still it.

She could go check it out. But she didn’t want to go out into the company of the clan without Rakan. It’d be too awkward - she only knew the names of three people. It wouldn’t be long before he came back anyway - she could nap a little longer.

Xayah rolls over onto her back; stares at the stitched leather of the ceiling.

                They were only to stay here for about a week. Not even _everyone_ was here; he must have a full sized clan of about fifty - she’d have to ask when he came back.

This time of year was exciting regardless of what tribe you belonged to. It brought back memories of a completely different settlement; one with low-hanging mist every morning and homes made of stone. If she tries hard enough, she can smell wet evergreens. There’s a song she should know the words to, ghosting in her memories. She had been a teen by then - why couldn’t she remember past the first verse? Had she really been that preoccupied with herself?

                The tune she sings a few times through, though she always gets stuck one line into the chorus. Finally, she stops after three more tries with a frustrated growl.  

Decades had worn too heavily on her. Even her own culture was becoming lost. It’s a grounding thought and a scary one.

She pushes herself up to a sitting position; draws her legs as close to her chin as she could manage with her bump and hugs them. Normally, this disgusting feeling could be quelled by action, a venting off of her own failures by redirecting energy to put help in places that actually needed it. That couldn’t be done here. Suddenly, the tent seems far too small, and the air far too warm. She swallows.

_Where was Rakan?_

                Xayah gets dressed, roughly runs a hand through her long hair and shoves it into a braid. She could do it properly after she found Rakan and dragged him off to bathe somewhere. She needed fresh air and space - lots of it.

Tearing open the door, she steps out squinting into the sun - it’s a warm day for fall - and instantly wishes she could return to sleep.

                She’s immediately seen.  Some tall girl with short hair and long chestnut brown feathers has her by the arm in seconds, pulling her along behind her to an unknown destination.

                “Come with me!” There was no room for discussion in the tall girl’s face.

                “I need to look for Rakan.” She says firmly, “have you seen him?”

                “Don’t worry about it, just come on!”

 Half-asleep and baffled, Xayah allows herself to be pulled away. They walk through the time worn paths for a little while until it breaks off and they’re at a river. Other girls from the tribe are already there, frolicking in the water. They wave when they see both of them, and Xayah starts to sweat a little.

Bathing with them… _she hardly knew them_. Still, she reluctantly undresses when she feels the main spotlight has shifted from her, and wades into the water with her wings covering herself.

She washes herself, rubs flowers against her skin in lieu of asking for soap, and soaks her hair through. When she pops back up for air the others are staring at her, grinning.  Chestnut-haired girl seems closest to her in age, but with their kind it was always hard to tell.

                “I’m Tanneal.” She grabs the closest girl next to her, the one with white-blonde hair. “This is Avi.”

                “Hi.” She waves only a little awkwardly. Xayah nervously laughs and waves back, just as awkward.

                Tanneal continues with introductions. “Avi’s older sister is Asha. You would have liked her. She was a strong fighter. But then some guy from the west started courting her and now she lives away.”

 _Asha_. That’s who Rakan and his Grandfather had been talking about last night.

                “My name is Esenna.” The copper-haired girl politely says, bowing slightly to her. The same one who had the long braids the night previous. She was slight in frame and stature, but tall and graceful-looking like a reed.  There’s a fresh looking bruise on her neck. “It’s a pleasure to meet your song.”

                “Same to you.” Xayah repeats while trying not to stare. Minwu had been more than successful it seemed.

The last two girls were strawberry blondes, one a little chubby and the other so muscular she appeared more a triangle then a pear. All tall - or at least taller than her, which wasn’t that big of an accomplishment.

The chubby girl twirls a lock around her finger and says; “I’m Nai.”

                “- and I’m Kyonin.”

They all had the same facial markings as Rakan. Tall, busy, beautiful.  The thought of fighting them made her heart race in excitement. They would surely be good training partners.

The five of them were clustered close together, a giggling group of women who all shared a look before turning back to stare at her with devious expressions. Now she really felt like she was going to need to fight.

                “So.” Nai starts slowly, splashing a little as she took a few steps. “You and Rakan.”

                “Um.” Were they admirers of him? She often said that all women desired Rakan, but she wasn’t sure if that applied to the peers that grew up with him. “Yes?”

They giggle.

                “Good luck with that.” Kyonin gruffly states and it’s met with even more titters.

Xayah’s stuck feeling uneasy - Are they making fun of him or is it just fond teasing? Gods it’s been far too long since she’s been interacting with people like this, rather than as a rebellion leader. But she doesn’t need to impress them.

                “He’s been flirting around with all of us for far too long. Keep a good leash on him, will you?” Nai asks with a flip of her wet hair.

                “Don’t worry - I’m sure it won’t be a problem anymore. He just needed someone good enough to keep him properly occupied.” Xayah retorts, eyes blazing strong.

Avi, Esenna and Tanneal all _ooooooh_ with the dignity of fledglings. Kyonin snorts, cleared impressed by her answer. She nods.

                “Good. He needs some direction.”

Like a breath of fresh air, Esenna glances between the both of them and wanders forward, pulling at Xayah’s arm to lead her closer to the group. They wade a little deeper, and then sit upon flat stones in the riverbed.

                “How did you two meet?” She has two piercings in her nose, cute and small. Her eyes crinkle and sparkle with mischief.

                “Hey, ‘Senna, that’s boring! They’ll talk about that later tonight. Ask her something more interesting than that.” Tanneal whines, and splashes up cold water at her. Esenna yelps and splashes back, and Nai joins in until Tanneal turns on her and dunks her.

When she emerges she’s laughing, and the girls all flit back around in the water. Xayah watches a little off-put and unsure. They were so comfortable around each other, that much was obvious. They might as well be sisters.

                Splash-fight over, they then stand and wade back to the river bank, sit open the large rocks hot from the sun and started combing at each other’s hair.  They’re still nude, pale skin, dark tattoos and bright wing feathers drying quickly in the warm wind, air-brushed the colours of fall and draped around for modesty. Nai is finger-combing at her own hair, but Avi nudges her and then she lets her start combing at it instead

                “Xayah, join us!” Avi beckons her over, and Xayah slowly follows their example and sits in an empty spot, careful to keep herself mostly obscured. Her wet wings drips water onto the riverbank and she picks at her own hair.

                “Want us to do yours too?” Kyonin offers. At this point Tanneal and Esenna have finished weaving her hair into a complex set of braids, and they switch spots.

                “Sure. Why not.” She waits. Three sets of hands go to her locks, parting it and wringing it out, then pulling lightly as her hair is braided.

                “You have nice long hair…”  Esenna praises. “I’m sure Rakan braids it every day.”

                 “I wish I had a man to do mine - you’re so lucky.” Avi adds.

                “He doesn’t, actually.” Xayah says, only slightly surprised. There were only a few times where he’d offer, and that was probably because she usually had it done before he’d even wake up. Was this something he was supposed to do? She’d have to ask.

                “Does Minwu braid yours?” Kyonin teases Esenna with a light shove. Her cheeks go pink as tulips.

                “No!” She shrieks. The other girls _aww_ at her.

                “He’s only started getting serious lately.” Nai whispers in Xayah’s direction, as if she cared to know the background information. “I think it was because of Asha leaving.”

                “No, it’s because we’ve had other guys visiting from outside this tribe and they’re all getting nervous.” Avi giggles. “Serves him right. He dragged his feet way too long Esenna.”

                “He’s not even the best dancer here. You should kick him to the curb.” Kyonin pulls Xayah’s hair tight, and she feels her start wrapping some leather around the end to bind it.

                “Minwu’s sweet.” Esenna mumbles, looking down at her nails. “I think he dances perfectly fine.”

                “Uh huh. Just wait till he pulls you aside and tries to perform for you. It’ll be hard to cover up his mistakes if he’s dancing alone.” Kyonin snaps her fingers and taps at Xayah. “How well did Rakan dance for you? He did a good job, right? You should get him to give Minwu some tips. That would help.”

Of course Rakan had been an amazing dancer, especially in the intent-of-courtship dance. The night he had shown off the extent of his dexterity and physical prowess had forever been burned into her memory, his bowing and weaving and twisting in the moonlight only for her. However, Xayah didn’t know if she was legitimately supposed to answer this question. Coming from Kyonin, it seemed a bit rhetorical. She stays silent.

                “But I like the way he dances now.” Esenna protests again, soft voice lost in the hubble of the giggling circle.

                “Maybe it is true love after all.” Nai has a big smile on her face, and everyone laughs again. Esenna also giggles, face embarrassed but genuinely happy.

                “Okay! Xayah’s done. It’s my turn!” Tanneal happily rotates to sit at a lower rock and leans her head back for her clansmen to pick at her. Freed, Xayah stands and magically forms her clothes with her back to the other women.

Then she attempts to sneak away while they chatter.

Not so lucky. Tanneal calls out once she gets back to the footpath.

                “Xayah!! Leaving so soon?”

Her back stiffens the moment she hears her name called.

                “Thanks for… this, but I need to go find Rakan.”

                “What a bunch of lovebirds.” Kyonin calls, and this time the sing-song tease is obvious in her tone. “This is why I’ll never pair off.”

                “You should stay a little longer. He told us he’d come get you when he was ready.” Avi shouts.

Come get her? When he was _ready_?

_What did he have planned now?_

Sighing, she reluctantly returns to the riverbank and sits back down, a little extra space between her and the irreverent group. She digs her taloned feet into the tiny pebbles there.

                “Okay. I’ll wait.” He _had_ to have a good reason for waking up before her and sneaking out. She could at least respect his plans, whatever they were.

She tunes out the girls chatter and busies herself with watching her surroundings, eyes glazing over at the leaping river, or watching the busy, nimble hands of the girls working the hair.

From her own village, focus had been put on singing and storytelling - a norm for their kind - but jewelry was used to stand out and tattoos, not bright wing colours. They had been a peaceful village, and had thrived until…. Well, until they _hadn’t_.

Hair styling was more of a personal affair, and hadn’t been something really used to represent anything other than hunters and warriors tended to wear more braids as a symbol of strength.  She pats at her own hair to try to get an idea of its appearance, and the interwoven monstrosity that greeted her fingertips made her give up almost instantly. There was no way she would be able to get a good concept of what was done by just touch; the thing was too convoluted.

                There was probably other traditions here too she was unaware of. She hopes Rakan had the sense to inform her on all the important ones.

She keeps her wings tucked up around herself, knees drawn higher and hiding her pregnant tummy from the others. Nobody knew yet, or at least they hadn’t announced it to everyone yet, though there were probably people who had already guessed.

Missing Rakan was an unfamiliar feeling these days. He could hardly keep his hands off of her, let alone going far enough away that he wasn’t within eye or ear-shot. Still, that showed he trusted his family with her safety and that was pretty impressive if she was being honest.

There’d be no end to their questions and teasing if they saw her bump, so she prayed they hadn’t noticed. Her reformed clothes had leg wraps wound tight and violet dress a little looser fitting on her body for this very purpose, wings melting back into a concealing cape.

                “Xayah?” Avi asks, pulling her back into the conversation. “Doing okay? You look distracted.”

Her concern was kind, but unwarranted.

                “Yeah, I’m just feeling a little impatient. Don’t mind me.“

                “Don’t worry. Rakan’ll be here soon. He’s not the type to leave girls waiting.”

                “Uh huh.”  She scoffs and the others grin at her.

                “Speaking of which…” Tanneal nudges her shoulder, dangerously near to the raptor skull tied to her cloak. She doesn’t brush against the golden feathers there, but Xayah moves slightly back in her seat before she could get too close. She didn’t want anyone touching their totems of claim.

 “How long until he proposed? One year, two years _, five_? We all had bets on how long it’d take him to come home with someone.”

                “ - since no one here was good enough apparently.” Nai adds, and Xayah almost snorts, pleased.

“He’s been gone nearly a century.” She replies. “Could people here not handle him?”

                “More like… Rakan is a free spirit. Always was. He liked to wander, so anyone who wanted to stay around the same place wasn’t gonna satisfy him. We always knew he wasn’t going to settle with the clan any time soon. But he was the star child of Elder, so it was only natural to fantasize, you know? About pairing off with the top dancer, about having strong, magically inclined children…”

She gives her a pointed look, and Xayah almost curses aloud. She knew. Of _course_ they all knew. She’s blown up like a blimp, stomach curving out obviously on her thin frame. By now, almost exactly half way through gestation, it was still somewhat possible to hide it with looser clothes and throwing her cloak over her front, but it was obvious to anyone with half a brain who looked hard enough. That or a good-enough sense of smell. She grapples for a change of subject, and wishes that she didn’t feel so out of place.

                “Tell me about your battle dancing. You must all fight, right?” The elder had said that one of their girls had been a strong fighter, at least before she left to get married, so she supposes it has to be something both sexes partook in. Some of their kind had a rigid dichotomy between the sexes, which could end up being restrictive to both males and females. However these customs were highly dependent on what tribe you were talking to. Everyone had their own ways.

“Of course! Who do you take us for?” Kyonin snorts and smacks her companionably on the shoulder. “We all have been trained by Elder and some of the other older Uncles in the tribe. Hand to hand combat is my speciality, younger me felt proper battle dancing was a waste of time.” She rolled her eyes.

                 “Wrestling is where it’s at.” Nai interrupts.  The other girls clearly don’t agree with her opinion, but they seem to all choose to politely ignore her. Clearly she was a fan of the unconventional choice.

                “ - And you guys?” Xayah nods to the others. Nai and Kyonin seemed built to be physical fighters. Esenna was tall but very thin; she didn’t seem to be very muscular - it was doubtful that she enjoyed using her fists in combat. Tanneal was pretty average in size but taller than her, so it was a toss-up as to whether she’d be a battle dancer or a brawler. If Avi was anything like her sister she would probably also be a battle dancer.

 _Argh._ She should have asked Rakan about this last night before they went to sleep.

 

                “I prefer the sword.” Tanneal grins. “But I do dancing in my spare time. I’m no good at it though.”

                “I said I would help tutor you!” Avi shakes her friend, playfully exasperated. “It’s no problem, really! I’d love for you to join me for practise.” She winks at Xayah. “I battle dance too, as you may have guessed.”

                “Nooooo!” Tanneal whines as she pushes Avi away. They squabble a bit in fast whispers until Xayah clears her throat and redirects attention towards Esenna, who freezes under her gaze, lips tightly pursed.

“Esenna doesn’t fight.” Tanneal says kindly, as the former turns her eyes away, embarrassed. Clearly this was also an unconventional choice. Kyonin pushes back into the conversation.

                “And you? You’re not buff enough to be a brawler.”

Kyonin pokes at one of Xayah’s arms, then flexes for both comparison and emphasis. Her muscles popped out like boulders. Xayah’s tempted to squeeze one but holds herself back, and tries not to look too awed.

                “I use daggers.” She says, and suddenly she feels like it’s not too impressive of a feat compared to these physical behemoths, pinnacles of fitness for their people.

                “Do you throw the daggers or do you like just….” Kyonin makes a swishy noise with her mouth as she mirrored a stabbing motion. “ - getting right in there?”

Xayah blinks.

                “Uh, whatever one works best for the time, I guess… Mostly I throw them. ”

                “Really? Show us!” Avi jumps to her feet and bounces up and down, still not bothering to cover herself up just yet. Xayah doesn’t understand the excitement. It’s just her throwing magic daggers. It was a hidden talent of hers that she discovered by accident, but had taken lots of practise to get her aim as precise as it was now.

Xayah scans the area for somewhere suitable. There’s not much to choose from besides trees.  She picks a thin one with bright red leaves a fair distance away back near the footpath and manifests three purple feathers in a shift of magical essence.

Aware of five sets of eyes on her, she stands and chucks the daggers as hard as she can one in a flourish. They fly through the air with a whistle and not a second later she hears the satisfactory thunk of it embedding into wood.

                The girls clap, impressed.

                “While you’re here we should train together.” Avi says eagerly. “Show me how to do that, and I’ll teach you the basics of battle dancing.”

                “Avi not everyone wants to learn battle dancing - “ Kyonin says but Xayah shakes her head.

                “ - Actually, I might take you up on that offer. Thanks.”

She’d kind of been wanting to learn for a little while, at least the very basics. She could ask Rakan, and the idea had occurred to her, but whenever they had free time they always ended up dedicating it to other things. It’d be fun to learn from another source and surprise him. 

 

There’s rustling from the woods that isn’t from the wind. The girls flinch at once and look back and forth between each other.

                “You think it’s Minwu?” Tanneal asks, prodding at Esenna.

Esenna covered her eyes in shame, leaning over her knees.

Kyonin snorts.

“There’s no way. He’s not _that_ brave. It could be Juin.”

“No way!! If it’s him, Isa would have come too.”

The girls shriek when the bushes rustle again, someone heading their way, covering themselves with their hands and wings and Xayah couldn’t help but roll her eyes at their dramatics. They could have conjured up clothes by now. When Rakan steps out onto the riverbank the girls all sigh in disappointment.  Xayah’s heart immediately becomes lighter, and she has to rein in her smile before the others notice her happiness and tease her.

                “Miella - enjoy your bath?” He jogs to her and takes her into his arms, pecking her cheek lightly without even an acknowledgement of the others. _Eyes only for her_. Deep down, it warms her heart with pleasure. She hums and kisses him back. She honestly had missed him. Waking up without him had honestly been somewhat of a shock, and she’d been in want of him ever since.

                “What are we, ghosts?” Kyonin speaks up first and Rakan breaks the kiss but barely even looks at her to reply.

                “Oh?  - Oh yeah.” He seems to just remember the others are present, and doesn’t bat an eye at their half nakedness. “Hey ladies! Thanks for keeping Xayah company for me.”

Everyone chorused with variants of _No problem_ and _our pleasure_. Rakan laces together their fingers and rubs his thumb over each of Xayah’s knuckles before starting to lead her back to the forest path.

                “Don’t forget, you owe me a training session!” Avi yells after them. Xayah waves until they disappear from view. She breathes once they’re amongst the trees, feeling much less anxious.

                “They seem to like you.” Rakan gives her a friendly poke in the side. She pokes him back where she knows he’s ticklish and he laughs, jumping out of her reach for a second, but he quickly returns to her side and takes her hand again.

                “Hm. So it seems.”  She uses her free hand to poke at her hair, still braided elaborately like some unique work of art.

“Where were you to? Some kind of… bachelor thing?”

                “Something like that.” He nips at her neck and she pushes him away with a squeak as he continues. “We were hunting! The guys came to fetch me. Did you miss me?”

Rakan puckers his lips and leans down for another smooch but she pushes him away. As if she would give him that sort of satisfaction.

“Hunting? Why didn’t you invite me?” She tuts at him but he shrugs away her disappointment. He knows she would much rather have hunted with them than have a girl-talk and grooming session. There had to be a good reason.

“Nope. No girls allowed!”  He’s smiling at her with a secret in his eyes. “But I missed you baby. Oh, and Rakan Jr. as well.”

By now they’re back at their tent - or rather, Minwu’s tent. She would have to ask later if they could move it somewhere more secluded. Everyone was pretty well spaced out already but she liked lots of privacy.

“After you.” Rakan bows while holding open the tent flap. Xayah mock courtesies and enters in after. The second she’s reclined on their sleep linens he’s tumbling down to drape around her, burying his head in her neck.

He smells just as ripe as one would expect from a man who spent the last few hours running around in the forest hunting with other men. Xayah pushes at him half-heartedly.

                “Bah, you’re all sweaty - get off! I just washed up you know.”

                “I know. That’s the problem.” Rakan rubs himself to both sides of her neck before kissing her jaw and pulling back. Then he rubs a hand up her rounded stomach. “If you want, you can join me in washing up. C’mon baby… pleaseeeeee?” He has the biggest puppy-dog eyes. At least dealing with Rakan is giving her practise in dealing with their future child.

She holds strong.

                “I just bathed. Besides won’t it be rude for me to wash and ruin the braid your girlfriends kindly did for me? It took them forever.”  There’d be no way she could replicate it, taking it out for no reason so soon would be rude. Nai would probably yell at her for it if she showed up later with it all taken out.

Rakan pouts.

                “Fine then. I’ll go take one with the guys.  Did you eat yet?”

She hadn’t. But she had been waiting for him.

                “No, have you?”

                “Yeah, we ate before we went out hunting. Let me get you something -”

                “No honey, I’m okay. I’m not hungry yet.”

He looks uncertain at this statement but he hesitates all the same, unwilling to leave her side. She tries to change the subject. “When did you leave?”

                “Before dawn of course! You’ll never find anything otherwise.”

                “…All right. Come here.”

She lies on her side and lets Rakan spoon in behind her. He drapes his arm for maximum coverage across her front contently. With him here like this even she’s starting to feel a little drowsy, though that was probably the passive influence from his magic. His at-ease mood was literally infectious, wafting from his magic like a cloud of pheromones. “Tell me about your morning.”

                Rakan starts babbling on about his waking up and meeting with the other guys early in the day. Something about fish was mentioned, and then something about a bear, but by then she was dozing again with Rakan holding her loosely to his chest. By the time she wakes he’s still there but he smells fresh, still damp with river-water and no longer scented with sweat.

                “You washed.” She murmured and he nuzzles her collarbone.

                “Mhm. While you napped.”

                “… how long?”

                “About two hours.”

                “Ah.”

She recloses her eyes and goes to return to half consciousness but he begins poking at her to wake her up.

                “Come on sweetie. We gotta get up.  Fooooooooood!” Rakan urges her awake with eager hands and she almost rebuffs him, but her stomach starts to growl.

Maybe she could convince him to bring it to her in here? Breakfast in bed. Or rather, brunch in bed. She wasn’t in the mood for extra company right now. But somehow, looking at Rakan’s excited face, she knows it’s unlikely.

She lets him help her up to her feet, not really a necessity at this point, but it was starting to get that way. The second half of this whole thing was going to get real inconvenient real fast.

                Rakan leads her back outside with an easy hand, towards the sound and movement of the rest of his clan. They’re all gathered, even the girls, arranging a large spread of food on tree stumps and upon meal cloths laid out upon the ground.

 _Some kind of banquet_? Xayah wonders, staring at the bonfire Tanneal was throwing branches and leaves into. She was building the fire high until it licked the black cauldron hanging above it. Some other males were stacking up wood nearby to be fed into the pile throughout the day. Another male with dark purple colours laid wide, flat stones around the periphery of the fire pit to catch heat and be suitable for frying.

It was only around midday. Perhaps they were preparing early?

Rakan’s loud as always and everyone waves to welcome his presence, she, still yet an afterthought.

                The elder is there too, white wings especially sparkling today, glimmering with magic. He waves over both of them and greets them with a friendly clap on the back.

                “It’s almost ready.” He says to Rakan, then looks to her and winks. “I’ve heard you’ve met our young girls. I hope they weren’t too much to handle.”

                “Of course not.” She laces her hands together and rests them at her front. They actually weren’t too bad, all things considered. At least not in small doses.

                “Well it’s time you met the rest of us! Make sure to get Rakan to show you around before the day is out. Today is all about you two, so make sure to take advantage of it!”

 _All about them_? _This wasn’t just a fall celebration_? He had said before they started the journey to his tribe that he wanted to celebrate them but she had thought he meant _privately_.

                “All about us?” She parrots questioningly, and Ranauren gives her a confused look.

                “Rakan didn’t tell you?”

She whips her head then to look at Rakan accusingly, who sheepishly grins while he shrugs.

                “Surprise!!” He cheers.

Oh _. Great_.

Rakan pulls her to his side and stands at his full height, commanding attention with his posture alone. It was one of his gifts of being an entertainer. People are staring, she can feel curious faces watching the three of them.

“This is all for you sweetie. I wanted to have a party to celebrate us! Us and… you know.” He puts a hand over her stomach meaningfully for a second and winks.

As if that somehow kept any sort of subtlety. Xayah groans and raises a hand to hide her face. All of a sudden the sound of everybody working seems to pick up, getting busier.

                “Nothing to be embarrassed about, my dear.” Ranauren pats her on the shoulder. Every manner of him felt like a grandfather. She felt a little reassured, but _only_ a little. “You’re family now.”

‘Family now’, huh?

                The feeling that strikes her is sorrowful. It almost knocks the wind out of her.

It’s strange. Rakan had been all she had for a long time. It had taken months for her to accept that soon they’d have a child as part of their family circle. She had forgotten he still had ties to others outside her, and that naturally her induction into his life would mean being accepted into a new clan.

This was her official acceptance. She takes Rakan’s hand and clutches it hard.

                “Thank you.” she bows her head to the elder. Rakan squeezes her hand back. Elder Ranauren gives her one last smile and her cheek a kind pat before turning back to the rest of the clan. A young looking man with feathers rust-red and brown hair braided to his shoulders passes him a dish filled with a red-ochre dye the texture of fine dirt. He in turn holds it out to Rakan, who dips two of his right fingers into the dye.

Then he strokes Xayah’s cheek with his clean hand, leaning in and giving her a chaste peck in front of everyone, much more tame than even the kisses they shared in battle.  With a single swipe of two spaced fingers on each cheek it was done; she was officially marked like an official member of his clan. There was markings that should be on her mid ribs to the periphery of her breasts, but that could wait until they were in private. His fingers are stained from the dye as he pulls his hand away and takes a step back.

                “Wait.”

She grasps his forearm and pulls him back close, sticks her pointer finger into the dye dish to Ranauren’s surprise and swipes a long, slightly curved line along the top of each of Rakan's cheekbones. Her mark too on him; Rakan was now the second member of a near-extinct clan.

She was building it back up again.

                Why had she taken so long to do this? The moment she made the mark it felt right. This was official, witnessed and proven for all to see. They had long been mated, but this was a joining of families and a proper acceptance of their union.

He looks surprised, but it melts away as he beams at her and retakes her dye-stained hand with his, then leans over to press their foreheads together.

 

Then Elder Ranauren addresses the Vastaya gathered with a booming voice far from his normal grandfatherly timbre.

                “Xayah is part of our family! May the mated couple have every happiness until the end of their songs. Let’s give her an official welcome!”

There was only fourteen Vastaya there, but the roar that went up was near deafening. Everyone cheered at the top of their lungs, with a few people whistling hard with their fingers. Ranauren raised both arms into the air and shouted, somehow managing to be heard over the rest of them;

“Now, let the celebration begin!”

                More logs are thrown onto the fire and sparks fly all throughout the clearing. Food starts getting passed around while the popping of corks fill the air as wine bottles are opened in abundance. Rakan leads her to sit near where would be considered the head of the circle, and people crowd in to sit around them.

Rakan leans into her and gives her a nudge.

                “I told you they’d like you. “ He whispers into her ear.

                “The day is still young.” She replies with only a little snark. She was touched, somewhat. Even though social gatherings were a hassle.

The people still listening grin at those words. Xayah ignores the pit in her stomach and starts picking at the food laid in front of her. Dumplings with a variety of fillings, fruits and vegetables of a dozen varieties, bowls full of sweet nuts and plates with at least five varieties of bread.

“Just wait until you see the surprise. The guys should be here with it any moment.”  Rakan says, and Xayah snorts.

                “Not much of a surprise then, is it?” she teases.

                “Nu-uh! I didn’t tell you what the surprise was. That means it’s still a surprise.”

                “Of course sweetie.” She pinches his cheek but drops the subject.

She notes a few of the males getting up and leaving, and when they return it’s with a large bear, skinned and stuffed and elaborately arranged on a spit. They hang the bear over the bonfire and tossed more wood in to build the flames up so hot the heat could be felt from over a metre away.

                “Surprise!” He does happy jazz fingers as he extends his arms out in a flourish. “I killed it myself, you know! Well, the guys helped. But I did most of the work!”

It wasn’t the _most_ impressive thing he’s ever done, but it was still pretty good. Rakan’s preening, awaiting her praise. He’s still practising at being a better provider, even though it’s unnecessary. It’s flattering in a way, and though stupid and archaic it’s _reassuring_.

                “Thank you Honey.” Her hand drops briefly to her stomach, and she kisses his cheek. “It looks delicious. I’m sure the baby will love tasting it.”

He pouts.

                “Will _you_ love it?”

                “Yes Rakan, I will also love it.”

His pout turns to a relieved smile, and they smooch again on the lips.

Through the meal chatter she is introduced to the rest of the younger clan members and then again come the relentless flow of questions and curiosities. It was a small group so she rationalised it shouldn’t be too hard to keep them all straight. Rakan introduced them all to her as he filled his plate; Thallan, who was quiet but a good mind for tracking - he had been the one to offer the dish of dye to Elder. Ayen was the one who had pulled out the kankles and kamantcheh the night previous, while Taegen had been the one accompanying him on the qanun.

The drummer was also there - Juin his name was - and Tanyl had hair longer than his older sister Tanneal, though Xayah could see the resemblance now they were settled next to each other. Minwu sat next to Esenna - his spiky hair was easy enough to recognise - and she could see him periodically play with her long braids. Siirist, Shyrrik and Isa all looked like typical warrior jocks; tall, muscled with braided shoulder length hair and shirtless chest adorned with scars and tattoos. Though according to Rakan Isa was a newcomer he hadn’t met before but ‘was a cool-enough guy’ and Siirist and Shyrrik were not twins but they might as well be appearance-wise; both with jet black hair and the same brown eyes. According to Rakan however, they weren’t even distantly related.

 _At least they have good posture_ , Xayah thinks as she rolls her eyes. Their feather colours were dark autumn reds, oranges, yellows and browns. Nobody seemed to want to go all black.

                _It’s bad luck_. Rakan had told her once, and she had never asked him to go dark for night time raids ever since.

When the bowls were emptied Rakan gestures to Ayen and Taegen, and they jump up and leave the circle to return to their tent. When they return they’re holding an armful of instruments. The drums are passed to Juin and both Ayen and Taegen took a string instrument each.

                The moment the first chord is struck the dancing starts.

 When Rakan stands he holds out a hand and helps her up with him, then lifts her up in the air for a skaters twirl. He’s taking it easy since they just ate, but the meal was light so she didn’t feel too bothered. Nobody else seems worried either about getting cramps or stomach sick.

Her and Rakan have the metaphorical floor to themselves for a brief time, him moving around her twirling fast and stepping with his feet faster. She swivels her hips and attempts to flow like water along with his movements. Everyone’s eyes are on them; she isn’t sure if this is some kind of test, but if it is she’s determined to pass it.

                When Rakan lowers her for a dip she feels him lift her off the ground, weighting her on his knee while he leans in close and traces a line down her neck with his nose. A few people whistle, and his lips are flat against the base of her throat. She gives him a slight pinch to the upper arm as a warning. Not that she minded physical affection, but the wine during lunch had made him far too comfortable.

Once she’s pulled back up to standing others have joined in, dancing and laughing and volleying to step in and swap out places to dance with either her or Rakan.

Kyonin takes her hand to dance first, and she can lift her up into the air and spin like Rakan can. When they’re done she dots her arm with a smudge of yellow dye. The other girls crowd around too, with words of congratulations and official welcomes. They dot her arms with colours as they give their approval, link arms with her to form a circle and spin, kicking their feet out while in sync.

Once the girls disperse, snatched as partners by other guys Xayah finds Ranauren standing next to her, offering her a dance. She smiles at him and accepts his hand, and after marking her upper arm with his cranberry red he moves gracefully with her in long flowing steps.

“Enjoying your party?” He asks.

“So far, yes. Thank you, but… it was unnecessary. You didn’t have to do this for me.” All the grandiose customs in order to welcome her was flattering, but they didn’t have to go to these lengths just to make her feel comfortable. If anything it made her a bit _uncomfortable,_ but that’s neither here nor there.

“No my dear, it’s no trouble. I’ve known my Grandson all his life, and I’ve never seen him so happy. Besides, I’m always down for an excuse to party.” He winks at her and gives her a spin.

“Do you know the sex of the child yet?” He asks then once her twirl ends, a knowing expression on his face.

Xayah’s breath catches, and she can’t help but flick her eyes to each side to check if anyone is eavesdropping.

“Don’t worry, nobody heard. Though I’m sure everybody has guessed by  now anyway.” The elder half-reassures her, and she sighs.

                “No, we don’t. I want it to be a surprise.”

                “That’s a good choice. It’s one of the only true surprises in this life.” He tells her, “I know you are a solitary creature, but I hope you return to us at some point at least once the baby is born. Everyone would be excited to see a new addition to the clan - you included of course.”

                “We’ll be back.” She promises him. “Probably around next spring.” Rakan would make sure of it at least. It’s not like she hated anyone here, it was just… hard being around a family environment after so long. It brought back memories she’d rather not dwell on. At least not right now.

                Tanneal rings a bell while yelling out _juodli_ and everyone stops mid dance in order to pass around tiny cups of some clear, strong-smelling alcohol.  Xayah is about to toss the one offered to her over her shoulder, but Ranauren clears his throat loudly. She pauses mid-throw, then smirks, holding it out to him instead. He takes her glass from her hand and slams two of them at once.

Grinning, he bows to her and swerves away, humming as he dances with an imaginary partner. Xayah watches him go.

 _What an odd fellow_. Now she understands where Rakan gets it from.

Esenna takes up one of Ayen’s instruments and a new song starts.

Isa respectively takes Xayah’s arm next, and she gets a short spread of dances while being passed from guy to guy until Shyrrik has his hand at her lower back and pulls her away, moving fast with the upbeat trills.  As they take steps his hand wanders down until it is firmly pressed against her rear. Then he squeezes, grabbing a handful of her fat there in an obvious way.

She gasps and reacts on instinct, summoning a feather dagger and stabbing it straight down through the middle of the offending hand. Shyrrik yells out and lets go of her immediately. She glares at him murderously and disentangles herself from his grasp just in time to watch him be knocked back by a punch to the jaw. He pitches to the side but recovers with a spin and a brace of the leg, then grins back at Rakan with bloody teeth. It clashes with his purple ombre feathers.

                “Who do you think you are? Touching _my_ lady?” Rakan hisses; he’s practically livid, feathers all on end from rage. She’s only seen him angry like this a few times before; Rakan didn’t _usually_ mind so much as she was capable of turning away suitors on her own, though this being someone he knew well probably made it more _personal_.

Shyrrik yanks the feather out of his hand, dark red blood running down from the wound while he grimaces. Not too serious of an injury. It could be healed by tomorrow if he wrapped it and got a healer to check it out.

“Relax, just getting a feel! She’s a bit pudgy, but besides that not too bad. You made a good choice. There’s cuter girls out there, but she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

He’s clearly a bit intoxicated, his words slur and he doesn’t seem too concerned with the hole in his hand.

Rakan looks about to go for the throat, but Xayah lays her hand on his shoulder and briefly shakes her head.

                “No sweetie, let me deal with him.”

She summons a fan of feather daggers, resting them between each finger. Rakan steps back, still fuming but more so excited to see what she had in mind.

                She flings three more daggers his way. One goes right between his legs and cuts his pants far too high to be comfortable, the other two dug into the ground by each foot, only missing his flesh by a hair’s breadth. “Do something like that again, and the next one goes in your eye.” She spits, while the onlookers laugh and clap at her precision like it was some kind of show.

Shyrrik seems delighted most of all, clapping his hands along with the crowd, smearing blood onto his uninjured one.

                “Damn, and I thought she was a quiet one! I love it - she’s much fiercer than I thought!! You got your work cut out for you my man, but she looks like fun. You’re a good match. Sorry for the teasing!” He shoots Rakan a thumbs up, then downs the next shot offered to him and chases it by licking the line of blood that had been dripping down his wrist. Nobody seems that concerned with the injury. Music resumes, and everyone returns to their previous preoccupations.

Rakan still looks a bit disgruntled, but he settles a little when she takes his hand. He pulls her back to his side and into a new dance, keeping their bodies flush. She doesn’t miss his hand trailing down to grip at her bottom instead, pushing her closer to his body and giving her a subtle squeeze.

He was going to be petty about that for a while. She allows the anchor of his body and dances along with him, letting him lead the way in their close-pressed dance. No one else asks either of them to change partners from this point on, and perhaps that was for the best. Neither of them were truly the jealous type - their trust in each other was absolute -but she still didn’t like it when other girls got too cozy with him, and he felt doubly so when other men got too close to her. Especially lately, as… is expected.

 

They alternate between dancing and chatting and resting, wash, rinse, repeat. Whenever she needs to take a breather he sits next to her without fail while holding her hand, even when his feet were still tapping from want to dance to the music.

 

As the sun starts to sink the emptied bottles begin to pile up, and the group gets louder and louder. Predictably another dance battle breaks out amongst the guys with Avi joined in for good measure, abandoning the other girls prepping food to join in the fun. They all good naturedly accept Rakan’s challenges, and are knocked flat off their feet in less than a minute. Kyonin had the good idea to take the dye and put it to a more recreational use, and between dancing the birds would throw the powder at each other and mark the losers of each round with whatever colour of their choosing. By the end of the tenth round Rakan still has no other colours on him than the painted stripes she had given him earlier in the day.

Xayah feels a little pride. But only a _little_.

                She sees Minwu stumble a few steps into the round and he trips over his own feet after just a few seconds more. The group roars with laughter and he gets back to his feet while dusting off his pants, cheeks flushed but laughing along with everyone else. Rakan gives him a pink smiley face in the middle of his forehead. Once everyone’s attention turns to someone else Esenna flocks to his side and touches his elbow comfortingly.

A churning feeling fills her stomach as she watches. They were all family; she was almost jealous. Yes she was part of them now, kind of, but she would never truly be one of them. Not like someone raised alongside them their whole life would be.

Perhaps with time, she’d feel less out-of-place.

-

                The smoky goodness of cooking meat permeates the air. Someone - she thinks Nai - yells out that it’s time to get ready for supper. The bowls and plates have been refilled with more food, more bottles are opened, and Nai and Isa start carving off steaming chunks of the bear meat and stacking it on platters to place about the serving linens.

Rakan’s all worked up again from the dance-sparring; when he retakes his spot in their circle he grabs her by the hips and pulls her onto his lap.

                “Rakan!” She admonishes in a hiss, but he loops his arm firmly around her waist and keeps her there.

                “What’s wrong baby? Not comfortable enough?” He pulls her tighter against his body and she melds to him instinctively. He feels good - broad and strong against her back - and she doesn’t exactly push him away.

                “People are watching us.” It’s a half-hearted protest as she leans half off of him to start picking more food for her plate. He waits until she gathers a satisfactory amount and pulls her back into place quite resolutely, swiveling her sideways on his lap.

                “No they’re not. But even if they are, they should. You look gorgeous - _we_ look gorgeous.” He puts the emphasis on the plural, and steals a grape from her plate with deft fingers only to offer it back to her. The others seem to be busy with their own meals as Rakan said, either that or clinking glasses of wine and joking about. She can pick out several different lines of conversation; nobody was paying attention to them at this moment. With only a little embarrassment she opens her mouth and allows him to plop the green sphere inside. The juice explodes over her tongue when she bites down, a bit tangy but a refreshing palate cleanse. By the time she has it swallowed he’s offering her another, and she takes it between her lips only to pull him down for a kiss and nudge it into his mouth.

He bites down almost immediately and grins at her. Xayah watches a droplet of the juice run down his chin and chews on her lower lip.

 

 They feed each other the contents of three plates going back and forth with the food, only eating the bear meat with their own hands. Rakan takes sips of his wine in between bites, and continues steadily at it once they’ve discarded their plates. The wine is a different shade each refill - first white, then green, then red. When Esenna comes around to refill his glass this time, it’s pink.

Once she’s oriented to sitting properly forward-facing again Rakan’s hand travels to lay obviously on her baby-bump, rubbing at her absent mindedly there in big circles while laughing with their neighbours and taking more sips from his glass.

Xayah lets him continue his chatting, well fed and content to leave the socialising to him. One of the guys makes a joke and his body trembles as he laughs, shaking her body with it. His hand drifts a bit down casually as he replies to some comment from Tanyl, getting close to her inner thighs. She taps at the back of his hand with a sharp nail and he squeezes there a second before going back up to a more publicly acceptable position on her abdomen.

                A flutter against her insides, then she can feel the baby stretching out inside her womb. Not overly overwhelming so far, but this strange sensation got stronger all the time. It was much stronger than when the doctor had first asked her about it so long ago at the tree-hut; a slight tickle similar to the sensation of air bubbles long grown to something more somatic. She wasn’t good at describing it… but it was heavier, an occasional rubbing weight against her organs, pressing out towards the world.

Rakan cuts off mid-sentence with a weird half-sound. His hand presses harder against her abdomen and he goes shock still. Xayah tilts her head at him questioningly.

                The men he was talking to laugh off Rakan’s weirdness and clink their cups, resuming their chatter. Xayah feels another push of the baby against her front and then in one swift movement he’s standing with her in his arms and is walking with brisk steps back to their tent.

                “What are you -?” She asks, cutting off as he kisses her hard. His tongue tastes like the wine, initially sweet with a lightly bitter aftertaste.

                “I _felt_ it. Him? Her? - Our child.” He says then, words a jumbled rush.

Oh.

It had been normal for her for so long she forgot that Rakan hadn’t gotten to experience feeling the baby kick yet. Every time she thought he’d be able to feel it externally and called him to have a feel it’d be over in the few seconds it took him to run to her side.

                He’s glowing, feathers lighting up with his magic, radiant with his excitement. She flushes when she looks at his face.

He deposits her in their tent and then runs back out just as quick. Xayah lies alone in the dark for all of half a minute before he’s back, out of breath and clutching several tiny dishes filled with the paint.

Rakan lights a lantern with a flame from his fingers and laces the tent tightly closed. Once the room is bathed in a soft orange light he arranges the paints in a line to the side of them and sits back down in front of her.

                “Can I get a better look?” He asks her carefully, watching almost shyly. It was her body after all, and her heart trembles. She smiles at him with all the warmth of her love, takes his hand and guides it to her bump. It’s large and warm, his skin slightly callused and dry against her smooth stretched tummy.

                “Of course Mieli.” She allows him to lift up her dress and remove it from her body. He follows suit with his clothes and tosses them aside to join her in his own birthday suit. His palms return to her stomach and rest there, waiting for some sign of life from within.

He waits, still as a statue, face filled with longing anticipation.

Nothing.  Disappointment floods his features.

But then… there’s a kick that nudges his hand.

                Rakan lights up with delight and is staring at her with wonder, like she hung the stars and shaped the moon, then lowers his head to reverently kiss her stomach.

His lips are almost ticklish. She feels him kiss a line starting from the top of her bump to down her pubic symphysis and stops right at her folds. A finger parts her carefully and feels around her heat, rubbing her labia minora together and prodding around her entrance. She knows she’s already a little wet there, but to her surprise he doesn't tease her about it.

He kisses her stomach one last time then removes himself to place the paint closer to their sides.

                “There’s a few details I missed.” He says and dips his dry pointer and middle into the yellow paint. Xayah nods and holds her breath.

                “Go ahead.”

He makes two lines to the periphery of her thorax, on her fourth and fifth rib and then repeats it on the other side.

                “There.” He sounds fairly satisfied, but soon returns to her tummy and starts painting something else in soft strokes. She watches him make light lines in the yellow, then in orange and green. _One of his feathers_ , she thinks. He’s an okay artist, finishing the feather to trace light runes all over her skin. They’re ancient letters, more apt to describing magic than their kind’s current language. She can’t read them. It was a skill she never got to learn, or rather, never paid attention enough to learn.

                “Your Grandfather taught you?” She asks and traces over one of the runes again with her finger.

                “Mhm.” He makes a sound in agreement then gives them another trace over with blue paint and leaves it be.

                “What are they for?”

                “Protection.” He replies and puckers up his lips for another kiss, then dips his fingers in the purple paint.

                “I don’t need their protection. I can take care of myself.”  She rebuffs his lips with a hand and watches him shrug it off and paint a purple feather on her tummy next to the yellow one.

                “Well, I want to protect you. Are you saying I can’t either?” He raises an eyebrow at her playfully and walks his paint covered fingers down a thigh where he starts writing more letters. It tingles slightly where he traces, sending a warm feeling to her gut.  “I can’t protect my mate and child?”

The feeling that surges in her takes her aback, rising to make her cheeks and neck burn hot. She rests her head to his shoulder and lays her hand on top of his. Rakan makes a happy chirp and kisses her temple.

                They sit still like that for a few precious moments. Somehow she feels melted and disgustingly gooey on the inside and decides quite resolutely that it must be the hormones. There’s no way his bravado would work on her otherwise.

Once she pulls back Xayah wets her own fingers with the crimson paint and draws a heart right over the left side of his chest. At first he watches her with curiosity, but once he sees the finished design he snorts. Xayah flicks him in the nipple, embarrassed at her own corniness and Rakan shoots her an apologetic look. They rub noses and Rakan dips his hand into a few more colours.

“Alright sweetie. Just a couple more spots.”

                She nods and lounges back, exposing herself to him. His face becomes unusually focused and she watches him pick a different colour per finger, going back to her chest and tracing circles and lines around her breast.  They were larger than before the pregnancy, plumped tissues prepared long before her body was ready for childbirth. He massages at the mounds gently until she gasps, painting them navy dark with spots of bright yellow like little stars. He flicks a pink nipple, squeezes it between his fingers before blotting it a dark blue.

Tracing down from that was a light blue to pink, wavy lines and more symbols down her front stopping before her bump. Her back was bare besides the messy handprints from him repositioning her. Rakan eventually moves her braid to rest over her collar, then strokes her shoulder blades and covers them with cool paint, making some design she could not perceive with reds and yellows. Once he’s satisfied he sits back, granting her full access to the dishes.

                “You want to paint me too baby?” He asks, allowing her to take charge while posing for her on an elbow and a crocked knee. Desire takes a back seat for a few minutes as she dips her hands liberally in the colours, tracing green triangles against a muscular side, tiny sharp lines along the front in blue, diamonds up his back in orange. She wishes she knew some secret rune or spell to place on his flesh like he did her, but she doesn’t so she draws some of her own feathers in purple about his body instead. He looks like a child’s art project when she’s finished with him, while she knows Rakan at least made her look sort-of like a planned piece, but he’s happy enough with her attention regardless of how the finished project looks.

He admires himself and her work for a few moments before he pulls her back over onto him, lifting her onto his lap and possessively laying a hand over her tummy, sliding then to her sides and bowing his head down to nuzzle again at her bump, smearing paint on his lips and face before spreading her thighs to nip at the soft flesh there.  

Xayah breathily sighs and moves her hands to his hair, pulling lightly at the strands as he moves lower and lower, becoming fully obscured behind her stomach. In a few seconds she can feel the warmth of his breath against her sex.

He’s going to tease her again, she just knows it. Frowning, she squirms with her legs but he only presses closer, holding her hips still with his hands until with a jolt she feels his hot tongue circle her clit. He takes his time, slowly tasting her slit and nudging around her opening while Xayah interlaces her fingers with his hair and pulls him closer into her, smearing blue onto his hair. Briefly he pushes his tongue inside her while he digs his thumb into her clitoris and she cries out, squirming from the pressure at her most sensitive spot.

                She was already worked up from his feeling her up at the dinner and the foreplay with the paint. A few seconds longer and his tongue bends, pressing at a new angle, much shallower than anything proper but still good enough it seems for her body to work with. Xayah jerks upwards against him, her natural lubricant dripping down to meet his tongue and his nose presses harder to her pubis. Xayah moans and grips the blankets as her hips quiver in bliss.

Rakan strokes her inner walls with his tongue until she comes down from her high, stopping when she starts trembling from oversensitivity.

When she loosens her grip on his hair he pulls back, licks his lips and swallows. Cocksure grin ever on his face, he sits straight-backed and proud of himself.

                _Not good enough_ , Xayah thinks. Knees weak, she pushes herself up and climbs back onto his lap, presses hard at his shoulders with her palms.

He lets himself drop flat to his back in an exaggerated fashion, and his hand strikes one of their tent poles. The support wiggles out of position and the fabric droops, but manages to still stay semi-upright.

                “Sweetie you gotta be more careful.” Rakan pinches her ass while he chastises her in a teasing lilt, pushing her against his groin. He’s been hard for at least an hour, but he was bizarrely patient sometimes, willing to put it aside to pleasure her.

                “That was your fault.” She says back while pinching one of his painted nipples as ‘revenge’, “don’t blame me for your clumsiness.”

                “Maybe I wouldn’t be so clumsy if you weren’t so distracting.” He winks.

                “Uh huh.” Xayah figures it was more of the wine he drank than her own attractiveness, but she puts a finger to his lips anyway, shushing him abruptly. “No excuses baby.” She arches her back, further showcasing her condition, then smiles when she feels his hungry eyes leap back down to drink in her appearance. This was for him just as much as it was for her. They are experiencing this wondrous miracle together, him and her till the very end.

They join hands first, and then move slowly and sweetly to join bodies until the rest of the world ceases to exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> * Holy shit this thing went long. I tend to write long chapters, but it means longer breaks in between. OTL I even saved time by shoving this chapter's word document into a word-to-html program, but I dunno if I like how it ended up formatting... :/  
> ** I honestly wasn't gonna end it there and keep going but then I looked at the word count and figured I'd rein myself in a little...  
> *** ALSO I hope this stuff isn't too fluffy for you guys. It'll get more serious soon, probably. Depending on how far I take the scenario.  
> Sorry for being so chatty! See you next time!


	5. Fantasia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xayah does some investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I can't believe it's been so long since I updated this one. I feel like I've had this thing mostly done for months, but just needed to do the final proofreading and was procrastinating. This thing was supposed to be longer but I moved some of it to the next planned chapter. Sorry everyone for such a delay. :(  
> Much love and thanks to all of you who've taken the time to read this!
> 
> ________________

  


Rakan holding her a little too tight. Nude and covered with dried, crusted paint, he has her clutched against his front like she was liable to run away. He’s hard as a rod, pressed to her behind and thighs while still off in dreamland, entirely unconcerned with his morning wood. This was normal for him, at least until he wakes up. Xayah rolls her eyes and tries to settle back down. No point in waking up if Rakan was still resolute in sleeping. She wasn’t going to go out there alone and get dragged away again. 

It’s a little more claustrophobic now than it was last night. They’d knocked the small tent multiple times, kicking over a few of the supporting poles and collapsing the fabric mostly on top of them. Last night she had insisted they get up and fix it before anyone noticed, but their bed was so warm and Rakan was so convincing with his promises to wake up early and fix it before anyone else saw. So she had went to sleep, and figured it was a problem for future them. 

Now the calm of the early morning is broken by giggling, dirty snickers that shock Xayah out of her peaceful lull. 

Oh. Of course everyone saw. They weren’t blind, and they were still an interesting oddity for the village, people were still eager to tease and poke at the two of them, just as families do. 

“Rakan! Wake up!” She elbows him a little but he only pushes his head further into her neck while grumbling in protest. 

She starts wiggling out from his grip, only for her mate to whine and grab at her like his sleepy, hung over complaints were enough to dissuade her. The more she awakened the more she realised they desperately needed to get a wash. 

The paint had chipped off into their blankets too, or had spilled onto them wet and were now a half-dried smear of yordle-vomit on their bedding. Everything would need to be washed if they didn’t want to wake up covered in paint sprinkles every morning. 

“Come on, let’s get it over with.” She drags herself up onto her butt, kicking off the blankets tossed over them and rolling them up into a large swath. Rakan lies face down now with his head in a pillow, blocking out any indications of morning. 

“Well then, I guess I’m going to go wash alone.” She says finally, while wrapping the blankets around her for covering. 

Rakan’s up in an instant. Grabbing the rest of the blankets and lifting the collapsed tent back up with his height alone. 

Outside they’re greeted by wolf whistles and more cheers from grinning, knowing faces outside their own upright tents, while Xayah steadfastly ignores them yanking Rakan with one hand and putting space between them and the collapsed pile of tent fabric. 

\---- 

Today is a better day to bathe. 

Rakan takes out her deep enough to swim, works her complex braid out of her hair with careful fingers. They wash the blankets out first, scrubbing them as best they could before tossing them up onto some barren tree branches to dry. 

Then it’s down to cleaning themselves. The dried on paint comes off easy, turning the water around them into a rainbow. He hesitates when it comes to washing off the marks on her face and ribs, but she takes his hand and directs him back there reassuringly. 

Even when the marks are gone, she was still joined to him, and him to her. 

\----- 

Not two minutes after they return to the main clearing Rakan’s accosted by Minwu, Juin and Isa, dragging him away into the forest, eager to spend another afternoon hunting and competing. Xayah waves goodbye at him with a flat expression as his feet leave lines in the dirt. He breaks free and dashes back, giving her lips a quick kiss, dipping low to kiss her tummy, then dives back into the arms of his captors. 

She puts a hand on her stomach as they disappear into the treeline. 

“It’s just you and me now.” She says to her tummy, fondly giving it a pat. 

Something taps her on the shoulder and she actually jumps, whipping around and sees Esenna, dainty and beautiful. Oh gods, she really hopes Esenna didn’t hear her. 

“I asked the guys to distract Rakan for a bit. No boys allowed during your medical examination. So come with me please- it’s important.” She says with a light lilt, and Xayah follows, praying that Esenna doesn’t acknowledge what she so clearly must have heard. 

\---- 

Xayah sits with her legs crossed, watching Esenna flit around her tent straightening pillows and blankets, almost in an embarrassed-like flutter. 

“Sorry it’s messy - “ she says, looking very flustered. She gave the impression of a panicked hen. “Minwu never makes the bed, and he always kicks off the blankets…” 

“It’s fine, really. I’m not in a position to judge.” She and Rakan weren’t exactly the pinnacles of neatness. The only thing saving them was their minimalist nature. Can’t be messy if you travel with just a backpack worth of things each. 

Once the cot was straightened tight enough to bounce a coin off of she stood back appeased and lead her to sit down, ruining her hard work instantly. 

“When you’re ready, please remove your clothes.” Esenna turned around for privacy, as if that mattered. She’d already seen her naked the day before. All the same she shed all her clothes except her bra, dispensing into essence then pulling a blanket over her lower half for privacy. 

“You have much experience with this?” Xayah asks, placing her hands over her stomach semi-protectively. Pregnancies had been very uncommon even in the good years of their race, so she wasn’t sure how Esenna had gotten experience in the past one-hundred years. She nods earnestly, copper braids bobbing. 

“Oh yes. I’ve had a good teacher, though I’ve mostly practised on human women.” 

“Humans?” 

“Well, _female_ humans with Vastayan husbands. It was only a couple people though… such things are still rare.” 

That would make more sense. Even with her lack of practical experience she feels going with Esenna was probably better than nothing, better than the Shimon doctor and better than any human practitioner. 

“Here.” Esenna moves across her abdomen, palpating lightly in and feeling around in tiny circles at regular intervals. “The baby’s head is here. So the back is here...” She trails her hand in a strip down her belly. “…and the rump should be… here.” 

She taps at the bottom of Xayah’s curve. 

“Really?” Xayah places her hands where Esenna’s had been, trying to feel what she felt. There was _something_ as she pushes in, but nothing she could definitively say was a body part. _How did she do it?_

“Mhm. When it grows a little bigger it’ll be easier to tell.” Esenna reassures her, resuming her inspection of the belly. “But so far everything seems normal. Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” 

“You can tell that?” This couldn’t be true. What matter of magic was she using? 

“I can if you’d like. You don’t even need to tell Rakan if you don’t want. Our little secret.” She winks. 

_It was a tempting offer_ , Xayah thinks, but why ruin the chaos of a surprise so life-altering? 

“No I’d rather not. Thanks though.” 

“If it pleases you.” Esenna shrugs. She lifts up the blanket covering Xayah’s legs and starts examining her privates, poking and pressing with a formal, clinical touch. Xayah watches the wispy girl a moment longer. 

“Why don’t you fight?” She finally asks. It had been rubbing at her for a while now. Not that people in a tribe full of fighters weren’t allowed to choose otherwise, but rather she wasn’t sure of the logic in it. Becoming competent in self-defence was practical in general. 

“I… felt uncomfortable with the concept of it. Ever since I was a fledgling I was keen to the feeling of other’s discomfort… Even when play fighting it might as well be the same as the real thing. So I prefer to distance myself from such things if I can.” She finishes examining down below and starts feeling over her breasts and chest, moss-green eyes focused at her task. “Working like this helps, but someday I should think I’d like to find somewhere secluded and live there peacefully, alone.” 

“Alone?” Xayah restates questioningly. Esenna’s cheeks go ruddy. 

“Maybe with one more. A mate, if I have one by then.” 

“I see.” 

She was like Rakan then, somewhat. He got all jittery around death. Despite being extremely skilled in combat he always got weird whenever anyone was killed: sometimes quietening or somberly saying something cryptic and obtuse, other times laughing in an unhinged stream of giggles. Rarely he’d hum a tune for a minute or so, some strange song that she couldn’t attribute to any of their folk songs or popular ballads. Whenever she asked him what it was, he’d always shrug and say he didn’t know, or would look at her puzzled as if she were the one speaking nonsense. 

“Something on your mind?” Esenna gives her a soft prod. 

“Not really. Just wondering if it’s similar to how Rakan feels.” 

She seems to take a moment to process this, imaginary wheels turning in her mind. Finally she shrugs. 

“I would not imagine so. I was born like this; Rakan didn’t start hearing death’s song until after he went to the summit. Though I’m sure you know all about that.” She laughs and guides her hands to Xayah’s back. 

“Can you roll over onto your stomach for me please?” 

Xayah gives her a look. Esenna flushes at her mistake. 

“Well, lie on your side then I mean.” 

She repositions and Esenna works her way down her back, feeling down her spine and the large muscles there. 

_The summit_ ? 

She knows very little about that sort of thing. From her own memories with her clan it was talked of like a pilgrimage. There’s a rare two or three times she can remember where pairs of people from her own tribe left and didn’t return, but she had been so young… there definitely had been more to it, but she supposes as a fledgling she had not cared to remember the details. 

Living as a solitary vagabond for decades also didn’t do much for learning _this sort of thing_ , though it did greatly improve her grasp of their ancestral tongue. 

“Having any back pain? Groin pain?” Esenna’s voice pulls her back to reality. 

“Oh. Ah…A little. More than before.” 

“Besides resting when you need to - which I know you won’t do - I’d say the next best thing for this is drinking lots of water, do lots of stretches, and I know you won’t have trouble with this one… stay active. Oh, and get a massage from time to time - I’m sure Rakan won’t mind.” She gives Xayah a small smile. 

“Yeah.” 

He’d been yanked away temporarily by his clansmen, so no hope of getting one from him now. Esenna’s words tugged at her all the same. Xayah bites her cheek; stands, redresses and goes to leave. 

“Is that everything?” 

“Yes. So long as you have no questions.” 

Xayah takes a breath to think about it. There was nothing that came to mind. Since she stopped getting sick things had been straight forward. Well, relatively. 

There is the matter of… the birth, of course. But that was _ages_ away, no need to be bringing it up now. The thought of that whole ordeal just made her do a mixture of cringe and want to cover her face. 

Later. They could discuss it _later_. 

She leaves Esenna’s tent with a slightly lighter heart. She spots Ayen and Thallan laughing and ghost boxing while Tanneal fixes up the bonfire pit. The latter spots her and seems about to go approach when Xayah sees the Elder’s tent. It had the door flap rolled up and secured with a twine tie. Singing in an ancient tongue could be heard from inside. 

That reminds her. She needed to do some research of her own. She dips her head slightly inside - shallowly enough to still be considered polite - and the Elder immediately waves her in, not even seeing surprised by her presence at his entranceway. 

“Come on in child, my home is your home, such as it is. You look like you have a lot to say.” 

She did, but she wasn’t exactly sure if it was something one could just come out and ask. Was it weird that she never asked Rakan these things herself? Would it make her seem like a bad mate? She chews on her cheek for a second, debating. 

Ranauren gestures to the woven mat across from him in the yurt. She lowers herself down and buys herself time with her fidgeting. 

“Don’t be shy, I know it’s not your way.” He says, chuckling like it’s some private joke. Xayah releases her cheek and frowns slightly, but tries to say her words nonchalantly, bracing herself for the obvious bad news while trying not to seem _too_ ignorant. 

“Are Rakan’s parents at the winter camp?” Xayah had heard various things from Rakan over the years about his parents, most of it vague. Not that they really discussed such things often - Rakan by nature lived in the _here_ and _now_ and she herself didn’t like bringing up the topic or account of it dredging up unpleasant memories of her own past. But whenever it was mentioned in passing Rakan always looked thoughtful and said something like; ‘ _they’re around here somewhere’_ or sometimes, _‘I’m not sure where they are now… I can hear them nearby sometimes but they move around a lot_ .’ She suspected they’d run into them during the travels eventually, but with the baby coming it might be better to meet them sooner rather than later. 

Ranauren gives her an auspicious wink before carefully saying, “They are around! Can you hear them? Ah, it’ll probably be hard for you since you never got to meet them.” 

Xayah blinks, puzzled. “Hear them?” He was on about the same stuff Rakan was always mentioning. _The song of the world_ and all that. No matter how she turned her ears and listened she could never hear what Rakan spoke of. Occasionally they met on their travels spoke of it too so she knew her lover wasn’t just insane; she supposes it’s just a matter of how magically attuned you are. It would make sense his Grandfather was the same way. 

“Yes dear child. Their _songs_. Though now it’s a mix of them both… I should think when we see them again they’ll be entirely different.” 

“What are you saying?” 

Here were the riddles again; never saying anything straight forward. A mix of them both… their child? So then Rakan… she knew for sure he had no siblings. Xayah bites the bullet. 

“They’re not around.” She says flatly and the elder waves a hand at her flippantly. 

“Of course not, not physically. Someday again perhaps, but not now.” 

_Not._

_Physically_ . 

“I see.” A spiritual belief then, perhaps a burial practise specific to his faction of their tribe. “How long ago did they pass away?” 

Ranauren shakes his head. 

“Loved ones that leave by the summit never truly leave us.” He continues, “so to speak of them in present tense is correct. They haven’t truly died. If we wait long enough we will meet them again. There’ll be a glorious celebration when that happens!” 

“You’ve seen this happen?” Her jaw dropped. Burial practise that preserves the soul, that ensures reincarnation? She has always thought Soluviset was more of a suicide destination, a burial site for the weary of life. 

“Only thrice in all my life. Usually by the time it happens it’s been millennia and all that would remember them have also passed on. In some cases, old coots like me stick around and can recognise the repeats.” 

He plucks two feathers out of his left wing and holds them in the palm of his hand, causing them to stand upright with his magic, faintly glowing with a silver sheen. 

“Magic is a wild, chaotic thing that can be influenced by the emotions of people without them knowing it. This is known, a basic truth of our people. Love I think, can work a lot like that; hand-in-hand with people’s magic. It flows, you know? Against each other for decades.” 

The feathers in his hand shimmer and the vanes of each feather begin to brush up against each other. Where they touch shines with a golden brightness. 

“They get used to it. A little too much. Things blur, come together. Sometimes, mated pairs find their souls become dependent on each other over time. “ 

When he pulls the feathers apart it’s met with resistance, and when they finally come apart with a soft _ting_ she notices the sides that had been touching were now frayed and somewhat threadbare. The elder tuts a little at the feathers and lets them stand on his palm separately for a while longer, drooping and lonesome. 

“Some can live like that. Others can’t. Others still, never get to that point. Eventually, a decision can be made…” 

As he speaks the two feathers cozy up closer together, then with a shimmer and a sharp line of light they slide into each other tip to vane and merge into a single feather, softly glowing rose gold. Xayah stares at it, mesmerised at its beauty as it shines a few seconds longer then fades into non-existence, easy as a flame dying from lack of oxygen or an ember on a blackened log. 

Ranauren closes his fingers over his empty palm - nothing there. It had completely disappeared. 

“Don’t be as me, child. I wasn’t ready, I had too much to hold on to. I left late, and now I am alone. I can still hear her, sometimes.” His smile goes from sad to dreamy for a few seconds, eyes distant with some fond memory. 

“But our souls will never touch again. I know as she felt now, and I fear that even if I wait for her…” 

He stops speaking and his expression goes blank, but with a quick shake of his head he’s smiling again, sadness forgotten. “Ah, don’t mind me. It’s the ramblings of an old man who’s seen so much. I’m just glad you and my grandson found each other. If you learn anything from me, please don’t repeat my mistakes.” 

“…What do you mean?” She suddenly feels defensive, although cautiously so. Whatever the man is insinuating, she wasn’t sure she wanted any part of this pressure. 

Did he want them to go to the mountain? She had far too much to do to think of departing to _anywhere_ just yet. Was he hinting that Rakan was already ready? But their child was hardly half way to being born! 

“Don’t worry about my words, child. I’m just rambling. Don’t mind me.” He winks at her. “That’s a long way off for you two anyhow.” 

Something tells her that it wasn’t just him rambling. This was some kind of queer advice, though how pertinent it was to her situation; she did not know. It would not likely be relevant to them until a very, very long time from now. She worries her cheek between her teeth once again. 

This sort of thing… the thought sends chills through her. 

It’s scary, it’s personal and most of all it’s _unknown_. Was Rakan really looking forward to something like that? Privately she had always hoped they’d just die spectacularly in battle. This was… uncomfortably unprecedented. 

A head pokes in through the tent’s opening, clearing her throat obviously. Xayah thinks she’s never been more happy to be rudely interrupted by another of their kind. 

Well, ignoring Rakan, of course. 

“You, me. Throwing lessons. Now.” Avi pauses as her eyes glance over Ranauren. “ _Please_ ,” she adds. 

Xayah nods, and stands to leave, bowing slightly to the elder as thoughts of mountains and afterlives fleeing to the back of her mind. Avi grins at her assent but in a gruff way, hyped up and adrenaline hungry. Tanneal runs out of her tent as they pass it and joins them just as eagerly on their way to the sparring area. The grass there was stamped down from many pairs of battle-dancing feet. Even while travelling they found time to mock fight and practise. 

“Learning to throw?” She plucks out one of her feathers and starts rolling it between her palms, trying to press the barbs down. _Trying to make it more aerodynamic_? 

Xayah views the action skeptically. It was probably a good predictor of the next few hours. 

“Uh, you guys, I don’t know if this is gonna work…” 

“Nervous about teaching? Don’t worry about it. Elder says we’re quick learners.” Tanneal proudly declares. Xayah isn’t sure whether that’s true or not, but regardless of that factor she’s more worried about whether or not their soft, peacock-y feathers are compatible with stabbing. 

“Alright then. Well…” She materialises a feather dagger of her own out of magic. It glows violet, sharp and beautiful. The other two girls watch transfixed as Xayah whips it at the makeshift training dummy with all her strength. The feather hits it in its stick neck, and the grass stuffed head starts to droop. Avi and Tanneal politely clap. 

“Now how do we do it? Give us a step by step.” Avi requests. They’re both holding handfuls of their own feathers. Whoops, she probably should have started with the most important basic. 

“You don’t need to pluck out your own feathers each time. In a pinch – or if it looks cool then yeah, - but generally you can summon them yourself with magic.” 

“Oh.” They both seemed strangely disappointed for being told they didn’t have to go bald every fight they go into. 

_Weird girls._

“Well, give it a try.” Xayah instructs, and the two both shrug and start attempting to conjure a feather-shaped knife. After a few tries Avi manages it, though it’s a bit wider than would be optimal. Still, when she throws the feather it manages to embed itself a full inch and a half into the training dummy’s arm, so she supposes at least that was something. 

Tanneal missed her mark at first throw, and at second throw. Third, fourth, fifth and sixth were also misses. 

Lucky number seven got in the dummy’s leg. Avi whoops and grabs her arm, shaking it with her happy shrieks. “You did it! Look at you go!” Tanneal grins back, pride evident on her face. Xayah figures both of them had a long way to go. 

But it was better than nothing. 

“Most of this is practising your aim and knowing what to aim at.” She says and she knows these strange, battle-dancing magic users would find their own way eventually to twist this art. Personally she had found the hardest part was summoning the feathers reliably, but those two seemed to have no issue with it. 

Eventually Avi changed tracks and started picking at her to practise battle dancing instead and Tanneal took it as her excuse to leave, saying with a wink that she would practise her throwing else-where. 

Avi throws her knife-feathers down into the dirt where they dissolved, then she smacks her hands together and asks; 

“What do you want to learn?” 

“The Basics. I want to be able to fight hand-to-hand with Rakan.” Xayah replies. 

“I don’t think you can accomplish that in an hour.” 

Xayah grits her teeth in a determined grin. 

“Try me.” 

\----- 

The men’s return is announced by hooting and hollering, the trio of Rakan, Juin and Isa triumphantly carrying a boar over their shoulders and packs stuffed full of wild food-stuffs. 

They’re filthy yet somehow still radiant, excitement from the day making them glow. People crowd around to relieve them of their load and to start working with the food they returned with. It was shaping up to be another loud, long night. 

“Where’s Minwu?” Esenna peers around, squinting into the distance as if he was just trailing a bit behind the others. She tugs at Juin’s arm. “Did you guys leave him behind?” 

“Nah little sister, he wanted to stay a while longer.” 

“He’s chasing after a fall buck!” Isa interrupts with a grin. “We figured we’d let it be but he wanted to go after it. I can hardly guess why.” 

They both laugh; Esenna doesn’t look amused but she stares off at the treeline for only a few seconds longer before returning to pick through the bag of mushrooms and grasses gathered. 

Xayah can’t imagine what the worry was – yes Minwu was a bit clumsy and not as refined with his fighting as the others, but surely they wouldn’t have left him alone if they didn’t think he could handle it. 

Rakan goes to her immediately as expected and kisses her in greeting. The sheen of dried sweat on him is tangible, and though he whines she shoos him off to go bathe with the other men. 

Tonight, they boil a stew in a very large stone pot, throwing in everything imaginable and sitting back and waiting for it to come to a furious bubble. More wine is popped open, flat bread made from wild grain is removed from the fire. Xayah sits where she did the evening before and waits for Rakan to return. 

The girls flit about like hummingbirds; Tanneal attempts to grab Esenna and pull her into a comedic stepdance but the longer-haired girl shakes her head, shrugging out of Tanneal’s hold after only a few spins. Tanneal looks a bit sad at the rejection, but it’s wiped from her face when Nai goes to dance with her instead. 

Rakan is back sitting next to her before she could observe more. 

“Is Minwu coming back soon? I think Esenna is getting more stressed out the later it gets.” Xayah lets Rakan take her hand and watches him start playing with her fingers. “You guys didn’t prank him, right?” 

“Prank? That would have been fun. I wish we thought of that!” 

“Rakan –“ she starts warningly, but he cuts her off. 

“But nah, Isa was hungry and we just wanted to get back quick with the food. Minwu wanted to get something big on his own for courting purposes. Be impressive, you know? He’ll be fiiiiiiiiine. You should be asking about _me_.” 

“What about you?” 

“I missed you. I was thinking about you all day~” He rubs his cheek to her shoulder for a few seconds, then continues playing with twirling his fingers through her own. “Did you miss me? What did you do today?” 

“You know. Stuff. Things.” She replies vaguely. Rakan hums. Pokes her belly button. 

“How’s Rakan Jr?” 

“We’ve been over this, we’re not calling him Rakan Jr.” 

“Well, is Xayah Jr. okay?” 

Xayah sighs. He was never going to let that go. 

“Yes, the baby’s okay. Esenna says to ask you for massages.” 

“I can do that. Easy-peasy. Want one tonight?” 

“Not tonight.” 

‘Why not?” He whines. 

“Because last night we knocked over the tent. We’re not doing that again while we’re here.” 

“Aw come on. I promise to set it back up if we knock it over.” 

“That’s what you said last night.” 

“Well, I mean…. Aw come on Xayah, that’s unfair~” 

He’s pouting like a child denied candy. Still, they can’t lay together as mates tonight – they’d never hear the end of it if they’re caught by his family again, with the tent collapsed and marks all over each other. Being quiet was easy, anyone could be quiet if necessary, but he was far too excitable lately. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” She interrupts to pull on his hand and leads him back to the main circle of food. His hand grips her bum as soon as she stands and squeezes hard, and then Rakan’s whispering in her ear. 

“Hungry for you~” Is his soft purr. She coughs and smacks his hand lightly away all while he laughs, finally removing himself to grab bowls of soup and enough bread for them both. 

Dinner once again is a lively affair. Drinks are poured, food shared, and the youth alternate between eating, dancing and playing instruments. 

Whenever Xayah looks over, Esenna is staring off towards the thick treeline, her plate hardly touched. 

Someone coughs pointedly and Xayah looks up from her food. Shyrrik approaches with his feathers out, purple and bright, his black hair shoved into a bun with one of his own feathers stuck into it. As if dancing to his own tune he strikes a pose in front of her, arm out and back straight, before bowing and rolling out his limbs like a wave was running through him. A slight light highlights his feathers as he continues these steps, and a sudden warmth floods her body, rushing through her face and lighting up her body. 

She stands sliding free from Rakan’s flank and takes a slow step towards the other man, feeling like she was being pulled by a string. Slow, careful steps to him like she’s wading through mud, transfixed by his movements. There’s tingling in her nether regions, fireworks in her tummy and an urgency to get close, to touch this half-stranger. 

Then, four steps in it hits her. This was a charm. He was trying to charm her, even though she was quite clearly taken and not available by any facet. 

Rakan’s magic was _much_ harder to resist than this. Blinking, the realisation almost flips a switch in her mind and she feels the false allure slide off her shoulders like a rejected shawl. Showing him her best glare she takes quicker, more deliberate steps forward and puts all of the force she can muster into a swift knee to the groin. Shyrrik curses while doubling over, clutching his gonads. From that she dives and sweeps his left foot out from under him. The man falls hard on his back and Xayah steps over him, pressing a heavy foot to his neck. Pushing enough pressure to make Shyrrik choke only a little, she glares down at the man. 

Even though the charm was weak sauce, her whole body felt abuzz with _excitement_. Not for this man’s touch, but Rakan was only a few metres behind her. 

“What did I tell you? What did I say yesterday? Hear. My. Words; I’m not up for grabs.” 

Shyrrik makes a few gurgling clicks while nodding, turning a little blue in the face. Xayah gives a few more seconds before lifting her foot. He gasps, rolling onto his side, one hand to his neck the other still protecting his goods. Some of the other guys sarcastically console him from afar, while the girls laugh at his plight. 

Xayah can tell even with the hand there, the guy was erect. Half-disgusted, she scowls at the Vastayan before striding back to her mate. 

Rakan’s staring at her, expression flat. That’s gotta change. Maybe she can crack a joke, pull him into a kiss? Before she can do anything he grabs her, yanking her onto his lap and shoving his mouth onto her neck. She gasps, grabs his shoulders, lets him suck the hickey onto her flesh right next to the one from the night before. 

It’s nice. She spreads her legs when the tingling worsens, not even caring about the onlookers. So what if his family saw? It’s nothing they didn’t already know anyway. 

When he’s done with her neck he takes her lips, taking her air and mauling her body. He’s handling her like he’s got something to prove, and it gets her heart pumping. Forcefulness wasn’t very common since she got pregnant, Rakan preferring to be careful and sweet with her. What was there to prove? She’s getting heavier and heavier with his child each day. There was no reason for him to be possessive – or rather no need for it. The world knew the moment they saw her, for some the moment they smelled her. 

After a few gropes she finds herself flipped, sitting with Rakan’s chest to her back and again with a view of the supper gathering. 

“Finish your food first.” His voice is breathy and impatient in her ear. It flicks once, ticklish. “We leave as soon as you’re done.” 

His plate was also barely touched, still a good two-thirds left of the stew, a bite out of the bread gone. If she had to finish all of her food why not he? 

“What about yours?” She pokes at his bowl with her spoon. 

“You can have it too if you want.” 

“No, I mean if I have to eat, why not you?” 

Rakan leans in, breath coasting right under her ear. Xayah shivers. 

“Like I said; it’s not the food I want to eat.” 

That settles that. She scarfs down her and Rakan’s bread, spoons the stew into her mouth as fast as she could manage. She was done with this party; they were long overdue for some alone time. The second she finishes the last spoonful they’re standing, not even waving goodbye to their hosts before taking to the footpath back to their tent. 

Then they pass it, ducking into the woods and weaving around branches and bushes until they’re in front of a large oak tree. They’re not actually that far away from the rest of his clan – if she listens closely she can hear the laughter, chatting and music drifting over to where they stood. 

He’s pulling up her dress already, backing her into the tree before lifting her with ease, holding her there as a thrill runs through her. Instinctively she bears her neck, ready for him to ravage her again. 

His lips are on her throat when she hears him say: “Be as loud as you want.” And then presses down, kissing and sucking atop her marks from supper and the night before. 

“What if – ah! – What if someone sees us?” Xayah manages to speak between gasps. Rakan looks up only to answer: 

“Good. Let them.” Hooks an arm back under her butt to boost her up and forces their lips together with an insistent, hungry presence, pulling down his pants hurriedly with his other hand, fumbling with the ties as he rushes. Air reaches her privates, and fingers brush her clit to rub around the bump, pinching slightly then releasing, soothing it with some soft strokes. With a shudder she twitches, bucking her hips back against him. 

She doesn’t care much if they have spectators either. 

One last kiss and he flips her so she can brace herself against the tree, his solid arms wrapping around her abdomen while he nuzzles her neck. He’s everywhere, hands squeezing her breasts through her dress while he shoves a knee between her thighs, forcing them to assume a wider stance. 

_That’s it_. He encircles her tummy, massaging and holding her heavy form. A while to go yet, only about halfway through, but already she was finding it hard to keep her balance, leaning over like this. It’s difficult for her to believe that he would find her attractive, that even _strangers_ would find her attractive. 

Then while mostly holding her up, he enters her and takes her where they stand. Tracing her body, keeping her tight to him as he thrusts. 

She cries out his name, not bothering to hold back. It doesn’t echo, but she knows it carries. Everyone with a working set of ears at the camp definitely heard her; little vocalisations of her pleasure mixed with his. 

One good thing about Rakan; he always made sure she finishes. 

They kiss, sloppy and open mouthed, sinking to the forest floor wrapped in each other’s arms. 

He carries her back to their tent when they’re done, when their legs stop feeling so much like jelly. Wraps them both up in blankets and kisses her till she’s wiggling. Laughing, she eventually manages to get him away with a jab to his ticklish flank, and they roll around their bedding for a few minutes until settling, breathless and giddy against each other’s satisfied bodies. 

\---- 

An hour later, Xayah sits cross-legged with a blanket over her shoulders, rapidly combing out her hair with a wooden comb. She seems to be dwelling on something or other - classic her. Rakan taps on her leg, and drops his pocket mirror on her lap. She shoots him a thankful look, opens it and continues combing. Rakan’s fiddling with his own hair in the meantime, staring up out of the open tent flap at the stars. 

She’d talk when she was ready. 

Still no moon. It’d be a few days yet until it returned. He busies himself with watching for shooting stars. It was a blessing to see more than ten in one night. Or so it was said. 

Maybe it was that it was bad luck to see more than ten? Whoops. He couldn’t recall. 

“Hey, Xayah, was it good luck or bad luck to spot more than ten shooting stars?” 

She stops her combing to glance at him. 

“Good luck.” Moonlight glints off her feathers, she’s resplendent. For a moment, he forgets to breathe. 

“Huh. Interesting.” He finally replies after a pause. 

It couldn’t be helped. They were too close to possible ease droppers. This aspect of romance would have to wait. It’s been fun coming back to see everyone, but Xayah was top priority. He wanted her all to himself, and Rakan highly doubts she’d want to spend an entire winter with his tribe. A few more days maybe, that’s it. 

He resumes humming for a few seconds before returning to her and wrapping his arms around her, snuggling her into his body and cradling her bump. He’s always so happy to hold her like this, to kiss her skin and cradle her tummy like their child was able to feel it. _The baby can tell_ , he always insisted while pulling her onto his lap for an hour long cuddle, _you need lots of love right now_. 

No resistance there. She stays in his arms till she nods off, his hands on her back and belly, his warmth and scent a soothing presence. A rustle of feathers and his wings are cast around them both, so when he lays them down onto their mattress she feels completely concealed. 

\--- 

Rakan’s still awake when Esenna calls for him, just a quiet questioning of his name from right outside his tent. He takes a second to look down at Xayah, sleeping like a log. He doesn’t want to leave, but she’d only be bothering him at this hour if it was important. Very carefully he disentangles himself from his lover and ducks outside. Esenna is right by the door, wings drawn tight around herself as if protecting herself from a chill. 

“What’s up?” He asks. Esenna’s hands are clasped together in a white-knuckled grip, she’s biting her cheek in an anxious tick. He wants to tell her to relax a little for worry she’d scratch herself up, but he’s getting the feeling saying that would do the opposite of calming her down. 

She has to take a few small breaths before she can speak. Her eyes are red, he notices, and by a quick glance to the sky he knows it’s way after midnight. This couldn’t be good. Looking at her now, he’s pretty sure he knows what this is about. 

“It’s Minwu.” She starts, and at his name she sounds like she’s on the brink of tears. Rakan abruptly knows what she’s about to say. 

“He hasn’t come back yet.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna be fluff for much longer folks. You guys have had it too good for too long.


	6. Canzona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ambush, feelings, and Rakan gets wicked high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back!! Now, this chapter was a long time in the making, for a reason that is going to become abundantly clear as you go through this.  
> ( _spoilers_ I had to get a spreadsheet and attempt to invent bird language.)
> 
> NOW there's a lot that goes into this process, one I've only skimmed with basic attempts at conjugation. Luckily for me the official league writers are even more inconsistent than I am, and despite me trawling their forums for official content to guide my process, all of it was contradicting! (For example, it was said in the word document file that had all the rules on their language that V is a letter/sound that they don't have. Yet _Vi-om_ is an official word, not to mention _Vastaya,_ so unless they're all being savages and it's supposed to be a B sound but they're using V... ??? So I decided to just run with it. Nobody knows what they're doing here, especially not me haha)
> 
>  
> 
> BUT some ideas are consistent, and so that's what I worked with as building blocks to make rules. I can put hover-text in later as the translations if you guys want but I also think there's some fun to be had guessing at it or trying to pick it apart. (the reason this chapter took so long is cause I was staring at the language for weeks, haha)  
>  **TLDR;** If you guys want I'll post translations after but for now give it your best guess. Also if anyone wants me to go into my understanding of how the language works, I can, but I'm not rambling more here. xD. Just let me know!  
>  Enough talk, enjoy!!

\-----

  


There’s someone talking outside. It’s hardly more than murmuring, but it rouses her. 

Xayah stirs and sleepily reaches to both sides of her. Nobody. 

Then she’s a lot more awake. 

“Rakan? Why are you up?” She stands and peeks out through the tent’s opening, both Esenna and Rakan jump at her presence, turning to look at her. “Something happen?” 

“Honey, come here.” Rakan holds out an arm for her to usher her to her side. She stands next to him but shakes off the arm on his shoulder. 

“Tell me.” She says. 

Esenna crosses her arms over her front, bites her lower lip, and then takes a half-step back, staring at Rakan expectantly. He too hesitates, eyes not meeting hers but eventually says; 

“Minwu is still missing. Taegen went out to look for him but no luck, but he found tracks around that weren’t from us. He thinks there’s hunters close by.” 

Xayah blinks. Sounds straight-forward to her. 

“So we go look. A search party. Let me get dressed – “ 

“Ah honey –“ 

She glowers at him. “What?” 

“Maybe you can wait here. If anything serious happens we will get you.” 

For a second, she stares at him; flabbergasted by his idea. 

“That’s dumb. That’s a dumb plan.” Why would they possibly want to fight without her? Especially against hunters who tended prefer long range weapons. Only battle-dancers against something like that would be such a bad idea. 

“Yeah I didn’t think you’d go for it.” Rakan smiles but there’s tightness around his eyes as he leans in and presses their foreheads together. His hand crests her tummy briefly, and she understands his worry. She takes his hand and guides it away, lacing their fingers together. 

“I’ll be _fine_ , I can still take care of myself, you know. There’ll be a bunch of us going, right? Nothing’s going to happen. It’s way too early for you to be babying me about fighting.” 

“Alright Miella. I’m being overprotective, right? You always said you don’t need that.” 

“Mhm.” She hums then squeezes his cheek. “But I’ll forgive you since it’s not your fault that you love me so much.” 

“That’s right. It’s your fault.” He wiggles his face out of her pinch and gives the top of her head a quick kiss. Xayah knows it’s probably in her mind, but her scalp tingles from where his lips have touched her. Esenna is politely looking away, eyes averted to the ground. 

“Okay. Let’s get ready and go. The others are waiting.” 

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

Xayah prefers hunting at night. 

In fact, a nocturnal existence would suit her fine, if she had it her way they’d live like that all the time. Sometimes it was impossible, depending on who they worked with. Not everyone was so lucky as to have excellent night-vision. 

They stop at the tracks then Thallan leads the way following the trail through the woods; the path weaves around trees and brambles every which way. At some point Isa climbs up a tree, his brown and green feathers blending well, and leaps from branch to branch like some kind of shimon vastaya. 

“ _Fa sey anla?”_ Juin asks, each time he peers up at his friend it’s the same question. Xayah predicts the same reply. 

_“Va’hna.”_ Isa calls back. Their small group falls back into silence. 

Strangely enough there hadn’t been much from the dark order, the edgelords, the shadow order - whatever it was called- as of the last few years. Something outside of their control must have assisted in this change besides all the fights between themselves and the twisted humans. Outside of the usual quarrels and land disputes with humans; their common new adversary was the occasional foreigner. 

Xayah walks near the middle of the group. Rakan and Thallan are in front of her, Juin and Ayen behind. They’re still babying her, she thinks, but at least she got to join them on the trip. The other girls had stayed, out of desire to guard the camp rather than a fear of fighting. 

“Stop.” Thallen suddenly says, halting their exploring. “There was a fight here.” He studies the mess of footsteps imprinted into the mud, crouching and glaring intensely at the dirt. 

“I’m assuming none of those is a buck?” Isa asks from up high. _“Bi anla’na!”_

“No. It’s multiple foot sizes. Minwu’s feet are the clawed ones, obviously.” 

The rest were boot-prints. She can’t tell how many different people had been there based on the shoes, but if she had to guess she’d say at least four humans. _Four hunters, against one battle dancer._ Maybe if Minwu was as good as Rakan, then there’d have been no need to worry. 

With all of them here, there’d be no problem ambushing a hunting party and rescuing a prisoner. Quick and easy. 

“Which way did they go? Point it out, I’ll go on ahead.” Isa scales down the tree to be within eyesight, crouching on his branch and peering down at them. He picks a yellow leaf out of his hair, and Xayah watches it flutter down to the ground. 

Ayen doesn’t answer instead opting to look away, disengaging entirely. Juin similarly seems unnaturally interested in fixing one of the braids in his butter-blonde hair. Searching for an ally like a desperate man he turns his attention. 

“Rakan? Thallan? What do you think?” Isa presses. “We’d cover more ground. Find him faster.” 

“I didn’t lose the trail – there’s still a path to follow. We should just stay together in case something happens.” Thallan sounds calm, a direct contrast to Isa. Xayah knows their indecision is mainly due to her presence, but still. _It’s dumb_ , she thinks. She doesn’t need four men watching her back. Just her partner was more than enough. 

  
_Speaking of which..._

“Enough arguing. Let’s go! We’re in a hurry, right?” Rakan is already half walking away, staring at the footprints on the ground. 

“Right, we need to hurry. So, I’ll go on ahead. Thallan? _Wo_?” Isa presses, and Thallan, conflicted, jumps after Rakan to usher him off the footsteps before replying quickly; 

“True East. Come back to us if you see anything at all.” 

“Gotcha.” Then he’s gone, vanishing in a rustle of leaves. 

It’s not unnerving. Xayah has done this sort of thing hundreds of times before. Glancing at her companions showed that besides Ayen, everyone was walking with a fighter-ready looseness to their limbs. Not anxious, yet not overly relaxed. 

_Predatory_ , perhaps was a word for it. 

They walk in semi-silence for near an hour. Rakan seems to be looking to hold her hand, but she keeps her fingers furled. No distractions; even if he was good at multitasking. Nothing to distract them. 

Then, she smells smoke. The others seem to notice a second after she does. 

“They’ve a fire.” Thallan suddenly says, “We must be close.” 

“Everyone keep quiet. I hear something.” Ayen looks up expectantly. “Isa should be back soon, since he scouted ahead.” 

Juin frowns. 

“And if he doesn’t come back?” 

Nobody replies in the silence that follows. Xayah clears her throat. “Then we have to move in. We’re not just going to turn back.” 

She waits to see their reaction. Ayen seems uncomfortable, Thallan seems distracted, and distant as if he hadn’t even been listening, still staring up towards the forest canopy. Juin shrugs, happy to leave it out of his responsibility. Rakan grins. 

“Well you heard my lady. Let’s keep going. I’m ready.” 

Thallen replies immediately, finally looking away from the sky; 

“We’ll wait a few more minutes. If Isa doesn’t return, we’ll go.” 

They wait. Xayah twiddles her thumbs, watches everyone fidget. Nobody liked the stalling before a fight. It’s best to get straight to the action, or else it’s inviting nerves. Most of her experience with hunters made her believe that Minwu was alive, just imprisoned. The thrill of the hunt was good and all, but he was more useful alive, where he could be plucked and sold piece by piece. It’d been less than half a day, they wouldn’t have disposed of him yet. 

Rakan tries to take her hand again, and this time she lets him. 

Finally there’s rustling and Isa drops down from some high up branch, landing onto the forest floor with hardly a sound. 

“Well?” Juin steps forward. Isa nods. 

“I found their camp. They’re still awake, eating around their fire. I waited around, but I never saw Minwu.” 

“He’s not there?” 

“No he’s there, I can feel it. I just never seen or heard him. He could be tied up in one of their tents. I don’t think he’d have it in him to attempt to escape, y’know?” 

“How many humans?” 

“Five.” 

Rakan nods. “Easy. What are we waiting for?” 

“An opening to go in, I guess. Maybe we should wait until they’re all sleeping? Do it safely?” Thallan takes a stick and passes it to Isa. “Can you draw what their camp was set up like?” 

Isa starts to draw triangles and stick figures into the dirt. Rakan gives the pictogram a cursory glance before saying; 

“So what you’re saying is we need a distraction.” 

Ayen gives Rakan a puzzled look, Xayah can already see where this was going. There was no stopping it now, so she sits back and waits for the inevitable, a smile fighting it’s way onto her face. 

“I suppose, yes – “ Ayen cautiously replies but Rakan’s already gone just as fast as it was said, diving over stumps and weaving around trees to disappear among the forest. 

That means they’d have to go in, sooner rather than later. Rakan would be fine, dancing as he always did. If the hunters had some advantage from disgusting human technology, she trusts Rakan enough to avoid it until the backup came. 

They creep up on the camp, waiting out of sight. There’s shouting now, several male voices yelling a variety of nonsense and obscenities. Louder amongst them, she can hear Rakan and it makes her grin. 

“We’ll sneak behind and check the tents, if we find Minwu we’ll take him and leave. Will you be okay here with just Juin and Ayen?” Isa asks Xayah while he grabs Thallan, already taking steps away. 

“Of course.” Xayah replies, tone insinuating that only an idiot would question otherwise. She doubts they need all of them to kill a few hunters. If they can rescue Minwu and get him away before the guards recognise Rakan as a distraction, they’d probably avoid any messiness involving hostages. 

“Meet you after. Ooulalessh.” Isa knocks heads with Juin, then tugs on Ayen’s ear once affectionately before leaving swiftly alongside Thallan. Xayah counts to ten after they leave, then taking her place alongside the two guys, sneaking up on the hunters’ camp. 

There’s a gunshot, tearing through the night. 

“Let’s go!” Xayah leaps forward, hand full of feather daggers. There’s one man unmoving already on the ground, another with his gun aimed straight at Rakan’s chest. As she enters the clearing his head whips around, and Rakan takes the opportunity to kick the gun straight out of his hands. It sails off somewhere into the brush, black metal unseen in the night. 

Juin dives towards the closest man, a hearty bearded brute more round than tall. Xayah launches a feather but it lodges in his leather-armour, not nearly fatal enough. 

Ayen joins his clansman in a dance around the large man, taking the force of two to take him to the ground. 

Her next feather goes into the throat of the now-gunless man Rakan has launched into the air. When he lands, it’s with a heavy thump. 

Three down. Well, technically two, working on the third. Two left to go. 

She hears a tearing of fabric. _Isa and Thallan must be cutting into the hunter’s tents from behind_ . Not the subtlest, but she’d take it. 

Where were the other two? She scans the clearing, looking for movement. If the hunters had scattered when Rakan ran in, where would they have gone? Isa had said five. That’s not something he would have gotten wrong. 

Ayen is launched off the larger man’s back and Rakan runs to help his clansmen with the pin. Xayah walks a few steps towards the scene, a dagger out between her fingers but keeping a cautious distance. 

“Ready when you are Xayah.” Juin says, peeling back the leather padding to expose the flabby throat. Just one feather thrown hard should end him quick. No mercy for animals. 

Leaves crinkle behind her. Several long seconds pass. Xayah feels her feathers raise. She freezes in place. 

“Xayah?” Juin prompts again, waiting for her execution. He turns his head to send her a questioning look. 

The click of a gun reloading hits her ears. She immediately dodges to the side blindly, hoping whatever it is doesn’t hit her. Doing a half-spin, she gets a better view. One of the missing hunters has peeked out from the trees; tall with red hair, fat eyebrows, and has a sleek silver gun aimed at her. He must have money to be able to afford such equipment. _An exotics merchant?_ She growls, takes aim with her feather dagger. _Who would be faster_? She was betting on herself. 

To her left, Juin and Rakan are poised still atop the struggling husky human, blood lust in their faces. Both look a second away from jumping up to close the distance to the final hunter. Ayen’s the only one still properly watching their pinned prey. 

“Stop!” The gunman keeps his gun pointed steady at her while he yells with a rough accent, dark eyes jumping back and forth between the trio and Xayah. She can’t place where the gunman’s from, besides a general foreign-ness. It wasn’t an Ionian dialect she’d ever heard. “If you move, I’ll shoot her! I will! She’s pregnant, isn’t she? Surely you don’t want that! It belongs to one of you doesn’t it?” 

You could hear a leaf fall in the silence that followed. 

He sidesteps slowly, getting into a better position in the clearing while keeping all of them in vision. Once safely clear of the low branches he gestures with his gun at Xayah. 

“Pregnant bitch, come here.” 

She refuses to move. He fires his gun at the sky, the loud pop makes her ears flinch, then he barks louder; 

“Now!! Or the next one goes lower. Do you not understand common or are you just stunned?” 

The mood was tangible, thick enough to feel, to part with a fine blade. Xayah’s not scared, she’s faced much worse, but the rise in tension is also obvious to the gunman. She can see sweat on his brow now, dampening his great eyebrows. This human wasn’t stupid. She had no intention of going with him, wherever it was. If he takes her as a hostage, what was stopping her family from coming back for him later? 

There’d be no getting out of this for him unless backup came fast. Somehow, she doubts a small hunting party in the wilds of Ionia would have much of that. 

Looking towards the others would give her intentions away, so she remains still. What was faster, his gun or her knives? 

It turns out Rakan was fastest as he jumps off the behemoth's back, dives in across the clearing to intersect the sight lines. 

To his credit, the hunter doesn’t hesitate further. He pulls the trigger at the same time that she looses a line of the ethereal daggers. Another pop, she hears the snap of a magic-woven shield shattering. Xayah keeps her eyes on the gunman, ignoring all distractions. Leads up another shot but her first round had done the job; she watches with relish as the gun drops from lifeless hands to hit the dirt. 

The hunter-behemoth screams with rage, a thick arm thrashing out to grab Juin by the leg and bend it back with a teeth-grinding crack. He cries out in alarm mixed with pain, while Ayen is almost shaken off the man’s back as he starts to push himself back onto his feet. 

Rakan leaps back into action, brings his foot down hard at the base of the man’s exposed neck. The snap is audible, like the sound of a young tree's trunk breaking in half. Xayah waits for Ayen to pull the man’s leather cap off first before lodging a knife into his scalp, just to be sure. 

There should be one hunter left, but they’ve no trace of him. Everyone is on edge with adrenaline, slitted pupils narrowing further to peer into the dark forest surrounding them. Ayen hunches over to examine Juin’s leg. Red and white bone sticking out of his pants, bending at an unnatural angle. It’d heal fast with magic as well as their natural regeneration, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t need proper treatment. Ayen helps him stand, then lets him sling an arm over his shoulder to help him hobble. 

Xayah is about to turn to check the tents, but Rakan has his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her so she faced him. 

“You’re okay.” It more of a statement, but she nods anyway. 

“And the baby?” 

“Yes, fine. Are you?” He’s covered in patches of blood, but that’s not uncommon for him depending on the fight. He kisses her forehead, she can feel the tenseness melting away from his mind. 

“Of course.” 

His hand brushes against her flank and she senses the telltale tingling of him attempting to heal her. His familiar energy washes over her a half-second later like a warm hug before fading. It’s been too long out of battle for it to be with the leeched life energy from their combatants. Xayah frowns. 

“Honey – “ She starts to protest but he laughs and pulls away, skipping over towards their companions, leaving her to check the tents. 

The shelters reek of humans, man-sweat and killed game. Their sleeping rolls are laid out, backpacks stacked in a corner. She digs through them and finds carving knives, tinder, things for a fire. One backpack had a journal bound in brown leather within, she assumed was some kind of documentation of their trip. Prices are listed, though he’s not sure what they’re referring to, as the language is half-common, half runes she cannot read. She flicks through, sees sketches of other Vastaya, some less elusive than her tribe. Ottrani, Kaniji, Sodjoko, Shimon... More runes and question marks accompanied the rough pictures as captions. She recognises some words under the ottrani sketch; _Population: unknown. Region: southern province, near rivers. Magic: Unknown. Method of reproduction: unknown_ . 

Sickened, she lights a flame in her palm and turns the book to ash. 

The last leather bag she opens is laced very tightly together. She cuts the knots with her daggers and is greeted by a vibrant, multi layered orange. Feathers. Orange with red undertones, an orange-brown near their tips. Minwu’s feathers. Xayah urges, covers her mouth with a hand and closes the bag immediately. 

There’s ammo too, some basic first aid supplies. Some preserved food. She takes a backpack and fills it with the more useful equipment and some of the canned fruit. The dried meat. 

The rest they’d probably have to strip down and take later, or at least destroy and safely burn the evidence of their presence. How long could a single hunter survive in the Ionian wilds without any of his supplies? Surely not long. 

He wouldn’t make it. No way. 

The three are deep in discussion by the time she rejoins them, ancient tongue rolling off their lips in a fast-paced argument all the while Rakan is leaning over Juin’s leg. The swap startles her, but she supposes the stress has him revert to what he’s comfortable with. 

_"Ei."_ Rakan says, shaking his head while gesturing to the bone visible through the young lhotlan’s pants. 

_"Mik nei?"_ Ayen is more confrontational, standing up at his words, abandoning his spot of being a stressball for Juin’s hand to squeeze. 

" _Tas vare paran vaarin, Esenna olur sonra vah etta tas tauko_." 

" _To n'var tal stai ici tua, to'de inot tas daha_." 

Xayah passes a few of the spare clothes she had found in the tent to Ayen, who starts ripping them at the seams into strips of usable cloth. They brace Juin’s leg against a bundle of tree branches and tie it with the cloth, starting at the ankle and going all the way up the leg. She tries to listen harder but their dialect is accented, and their words are rolling too fast for her to pick apart. 

" _Basaat'de onu parva. Kolay~_ " Rakan continues, " _Isa un Thallan ole zaud, ovar yor'na tulla atpa ic meil vija basaat almaa jo ilgi lai_." 

" _Fa var vor atpa etta leiri ile fa'se veri un lahe dai citi ic meil._ ” Ayen gestures quite clearly to Xayah’s stomach, and she frowns at him in return. He doesn’t respond to her, but continues to hold eye contact with Rakan, fingers still pointed at her. “ _Ta't amile, ta pita'na in tann bekda._ " 

Rakan looks back at Xayah then, down to her baby bump, then back to Juin and Ayen with the look of one stuck between a rock and a hard place. His next words are softer. 

" _Mita sur vahir medni tulla? Bi dari'na lat etta antaa fa div tann_." 

Ayen finally stops pointing at her and snaps back; 

" _Fa'de tehd fa'se veri kavel atpa yaln?_ " 

" _Derm tas!_ ” Juin suddenly shouts over the two of them, so loud he startles an owl from a nearby tree to fly off with a loud hoot. “ _Bi'de karar, Bi'ju dit ile jus rik-kaj_!" 

Xayah ties the last strip of fabric to the top of his thigh. When they argue fast like this she feels like a fisherman trying to spot a fish in a rapid-filled river. 

Ayen and Rakan stop their bickering to stare at him with some kind of reluctant patience. Eventually, he speaks again, distinctly more upbeat than before. A smile forces its way through the pain on his face. 

" _Co'om yor atpa. Bi var kavel ic jo hasik bua, Bi'ju leshlami'na kas var'na roktu jo imin agri!_ " 

Rakan nods, significantly less grimly now. 

" _Tamam_." 

Then he looks back to Xayah. 

“We go.” He says as if it summed up everything that just happened. Xayah can’t bring herself to care, really. So long as they got moving. The sooner they get out of here the better. 

-_-_-_- 

Juin manages to hobble about half of the way, with both arms thrown over Ayen’s and Rakan’s shoulders. 

The camp is quiet, even though the sky is blushing with the oncoming sunrise. One of the tents is lit very brightly, with shadows of several huddled figures casting across the fabric. 

The prospect seems less appealing the closer they get to Esenna’s tent. Rakan and Ayen carry Juin far ahead of her, and they are ushered inside much faster than she. 

She waits outside, the half-opened flap letting lantern light stream out to touch her feet. Murmers of hushed conversation can be picked up where she stands, though it's all indistinctive. 

Xayah thinks of Minwu, laughing and joking with the others the night before. Something in her chest twists and turns angry. 

She can’t go in to look at him. 

The flap opens; Isa is there, walks over to her. 

“Are you okay little sister?” 

She nods. As okay as she’d ever be. He should be worrying about any of the others, not her. 

“Well, you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. Rakan is gonna get his wounds seen to and then he’ll meet you at your tent, if you’d like. But you can also still wait out here if you prefer. I don’t blame you for not going in, it’s very crowded in there.” 

_Wounds?_ Back at the hunter camp he said he hadn’t any wounds. The tent turned tempting for only a moment; she shouldn’t yell at him with others present anyway. 

_Later._

She passes Isa the small leather back stuffed with feathers. He peeks inside, smile going grim before he quickly recloses the bag. 

“Thank you.” He says, sadly smiling at her. “I’ll bring it to Esenna. Maybe she can salvage them.” 

“Tell Rakan I’m at our tent.” She can’t stay here anymore, waiting with the others. She would rather go back to what she knows, to a place where she can plan and pack. She gives him the backpack of supplies she’d pilfered from the hunter’s camp as well and leaves. 

No matter their work, no matter their efforts and their fights, it was an ongoing press and pull against forces. _Harmony_ , some would call it. Their neighbouring continents would never ever truly leave them be, not when they seemed to have an easy exploit for power. Their magic, their people, all were up for grabs when it came down to money, or some ruler's ego. Things were better lately when compared to the past, had been for at least four years, but it was a reminder that when it came to their people, it would always be them versus the world. To become lax and careless regarding humans would be their end. 

They’ve been too negligent for too long. They needed to get back to keeping a closer watch on relations. She’d been neglecting her cause. 

She lights the lantern at their tent with a spark from her fingers and starts pacing. Making a mental note of their strewn about belongings, their bedrolls, their blankets, their few pieces of actual physical clothing, and her papers. The stuff they shouldn’t forget here accidentally. 

Rakan returns to her soon after, his entire upper half bare, holding a pan of water. 

“They’re busy in the healer’s tent.” He laughs, semi-forced. “I’m low priority! So I said you’d help. Can you sponge me with the salt water Honey?” 

His right flank is speckled with buckshot, spots red and inflamed with a little dried blood. Some spots were actively still bleeding, presumably from where Esenna or Thallan had picked the pellets out of his skin. The shooter perhaps wasn’t close enough, either that or the buckshot shattered against his magic shield, hot sharp shards still with enough power to pierce through. He had bandages in his hands too, tosses it onto their bedding. 

“You said you were okay!” She pushes him to sit a little roughly, hears him hiss a little from the strain. 

“I am okay! It hardly even hurt Miella, really. It’s not even going to scar!” 

“Shame. You know I like scars.” She stirs the water a little to help further dissolve the salt, then dips the washcloth in it. 

“Dig around at the wounds if you want, you can probably get it to scar if you try!” 

Xayah huffs, wrings out the washcloth and starts dripping it down his back while patting as gently as possible. As if she’d purposely try to mutilate him. 

“Thanks for the offer sweetie, but not this time. It’ll just be a bunch of dots, anyway.” 

“Mhm.” 

She works in silence, staring at the semi-shallow wounds peppering his flank and ribs. The skin was still reddened and oozing, but he healed quickly, he’d be fine. It probably didn’t need to be bandaged, seeing where they are and his passive regeneration. Still, she takes the bandages and starts weaving them around his abdomen anyway. 

Xayah thinks of Esenna’s tent; her hands hesitate before she ties her rough handiwork into a securing bow and tucks the unused portion of bandages away. 

“He’ll be okay?” Xayah didn’t want to intrude on Minwu and Esenna though the two had quickly hid away as soon as they could to heal, tucked away in Esenna’s tent. 

“’Senna will look after him. If he wakes up from whatever they gave him, he can probably refund his feathers for some extra magic. That should help a little. We can bring him to the summit if she wants, but that’s for them to decide.” 

Things like this always happen fast. Foolish of her to assume there’d be a new constant outside of Rakan. 

“We should leave.” Xayah says then; “Let’s pack and go. Right now.” 

Rakan tilts his head inquisitively. “What? Another small group is going to go clean up the stuff left at the hunter’s camp in a bit, too. We’re gonna try to hunt down the last guy. Don’t you wanna wait around and see what happens?” 

That was the last thing she wanted to see. If anything she’d rather remember them as they were. By far if this was the last time she’d see them, she’d prefer it to remember them as they were; loud, stupid, full of pride. 

If they return when the baby was ready to be born they’d find out the outcome then. Rakan believed Minwu would be fine, then she’d believe it was so. She wasn’t here to deal with death. 

“When we come back, we’ll check up on them.” She says, and Rakan doesn’t question it. Just nods and helps her start packing their things. 

By the time they’re done the others are awake, watch their packing with a little confusion but they still wave goodbye genially and give farewell hugs with surprising genuineness. Juin, to her surprise is already out and walking around, leg good as new. He gives her and Rakan light punches to the arm, Isa walking next to him while watching him warily. 

“You guys leaving? So soon?” Isa asks. 

“Half our celebrations aren’t even done yet!” Juin adds, cheer sounding half-forced. Whether it was due to the early hour or the recent events, she wasn’t sure. 

“Something came up. I need to see to some urgent matters.” She needs to return to the fight, meet with her people and see how the boarders of their land are being policed. She needs to find out where these hunters were from. 

The boys nod, respectfully not pushing the issue for once. 

“Make sure you come back soon!” Tanneal hugs her quickly before Xayah can even dodge out of the way of the posse of females. Kyonin gives her another friendly arm punch before shoving a pack full of food at them. 

“Yah! We’ll fight hand to hand whenever…. This is dealt with.” She gestures towards Xayah’s abdomen, and Xayah embarrassingly tugs her feather cloak to hide her front. 

“That goes double for me!” Avi chimes. “I’ll count the days until our songs meet again. You better practise, okay? I’ll practise too!” 

They’re interrupted by the Elder, exiting the healing tent and coming to see them off. 

“You two, you weren’t going to leave without saying bye to me, were you?” 

Everyone else backs away. Elder Ranauren parts through the members of the clan with ease. He smiles at them kindly, but to Xayah it seems there’s a little strain behind his eyes. 

“Be safe, both of you. Oh, take Minwu’s tent too. It folds up small, it’s light enough to carry. It’s getting colder, you shouldn’t be sleeping out on bedrolls under the stars every night.” Then he winks. “Unless the mood calls for it, of course.” 

Xayah hides her face. Their audience chuckles. 

Rakan hugs his Grandfather tightly, they chirped at each other in a quick passing of tongues before Xayah allows herself to be subjected to another hug and is pulled in to make the embrace a threesome. When Ranauren pulls away Xayah feels a little tingly, sadness prickling a bit at her mind through her desperation. 

They _need_ to leave, or rather _she_ needs to leave. But she was glad for this experience, to see a slice of what life perhaps would have been like for her, had things been different. 

Siirist hands Rakan the folded up tent, now compactly secured with string into a neat little square that he throws on his back along with their bigger backpack. He was carrying more than her; at this point she knows better than to push the issue. 

“Be careful. We’ll see you in a year.” He repeats, and both Xayah and Rakan nod. She takes one last good luck at the small gathering, then leaves with a stony heart. 

-_-_-_-_- 

An hour or so back on the forest path and their pace is slowing. Rakan is stumbling and catching himself on the trees, head turning from side to side, staring like the world was new. He’s humming in between saying words of nonsense, and though first she thought he was just bored, now she was worried it was something else. 

“Honey, come here.” She calls and he doesn’t respond, studying the tree bark and speaking of faries. She stalks back over to him. His forehead is running hot, a fever beading his brow. 

“Do you feel alright?” She pulls him down and gets him to sit, checking him all over. 

The back wounds are healed over already, but the skin is still reddened where it had been injured. 

“So pretty, you’re so beautiful.” His eyes are wide and gleaming as he stares at her. He grabs at her body with undeterrable hands, pressing his cheek to her own. “I love you, my Miella, Miella – “ He takes her hand and swings it languidly up and down. 

“Rakan my love, I’ve seen this before. You’re not well. They must have coated their bullets with some kind of poison.” She hadn’t had it happen to her, but there’d been others she’d met that had been afflicted in the past through dipped arrowheads or slathered blades. She was never able to find a pot of the stuff to get it examined, so it was probably a foreign product. Her best bet was it was some kind of magic suppressant potion, or a delayed-onset poison that would’ve been far more effective against mortals. “When it happened to Ryilee it ran it’s course in less than a day. We’ll just rest up and wait it out – sounds good?” 

“Whatever you say honey~” 

Rakan sounds dreamy, half asleep- but he responds to directions, letting her disentangle herself from his limbs in order to start setting up their sleeping space. He attempts looping the rope around the tent poles and is failing at it for at least four minutes before Xayah goes and fixes it for him. It takes longer to do it herself especially with her awkward size but Rakan’s too busy studying a leaf to help. 

The most frustrating part is that confusion be damned - he’s still stronger than her, so she has to dodge his hungry arms while busying their tent and bedrolls. When the tent is set up and padded with enough pillows and blankets she leads him steady down on their bed. Their clothes are removed quickly while she throws a blanket over them. 

Rakan is sitting back up in a second, ears twitching and focused on something not there. Each attempt to pull him back to bed has him return to sitting, alert and unable to be settled. 

Exasperated, she eventually pulls him back down and straddles him once he’s flat. With little pretense she grabs his head and shoves it against her breasts like it’s an attempt to smother him. 

“Just relax and go to sleep. Come on sweetie. You’ll feel better in the morning.” She begs. By now even she’s getting tired, their escapade with the hunters had greatly cut into their sleep. 

It works for barely a minute before Rakan rolls out from under her then migrates down, placing his ear over her tummy. The stars are in his eyes, half blinding him with the colours. Pressed to her stomach he can hear It well, pulling away dampened it significantly. 

“It’s our child. Our baby. It’s song, Xayah I can hear their song! Ah – “ 

He sounds choked up. _It’s song_? This life they managed to conceive was alive enough now to have a soul-song attributed to it. This makes it seem more real than before, even though she’s felt it move and kick long before this. She runs her hands through Rakan’s hair and swallows to keep her voice steady. 

“What does it sound like?” 

She wasn’t as practised in this, though she had come to know his quite well. It was hard to describe to those who aren’t as attuned. She begrudgingly had to place herself in that category, young and self-trained as she was. 

“This colour, I’ve heard it before. It’s familiar _and_ new. I think I’ve always known it.” He says dreamily, before kissing a line back up to her chest and resting his head back down over her heart. 

“Xayah…I love you.” He says again drowsily. Xayah sighs with relief. Perhaps now they could sleep and properly recover. 

“I know. I love you too.” She whispers back and watches him to ensure he’s asleep before closing her own eyes. 

-_-_-_-_- 

There are two men left. One’s fast, ducks and weaves against her feathers. Juin trips him up and her quill meets his crown. He stops moving. 

_Where’s the last man_ ? 

Her neck prickles. The sound of a gun cocking – 

_Xayah_ ! 

A body slams into her; the sound of gunfire. The splatter of warmth against her back, heavy against her for only a second before dropping. She turns, feather at the ready. The last man falls. 

She looks down. Her mind goes blank. 

_Who else would it be_ ? 

Rakan is half-curled on the ground, blood turning his gold feathers red. She drops to her knees, rolling him to his back, touching his arm, his shoulder. Half of his neck has been blown open, exposing the stringy muscles attached to his upper back. Pieces of her heartfire, strewn from a single shot of metal. She sobs, shakes him lightly, but he doesn’t stir. 

_Rakan_ , she croaks, _Rakan, wake up_. Half his face is slick with his blood but his skin is still warm to the touch. _What of our baby? Mieli – we need you_. The blue in his eyes is fading, the song leaving him. His heartbeat is weak, quivering, then nothing. 

She leans over him and cries. 

-=-=- 

Xayah awakes with a gasp, trembling and sweaty. All of a sudden her quilt feels too warm, sticky and restrictive and she punches it off with distaste. 

Rakan’s still asleep, arm slung over her and face clear from worry as he uses her chest as a pillow. 

Alive. Safe. _More than well._

“Rakan.” She nudges him with her foot, but he grunts sleepily and presses his face back to her shoulder. A hang-over like effect from the poison, perhaps. His bandages have also come loose during the night; the skin is fully healed with no redness or scars left behind - one thing less to worry about though it doesn’t make her feel much better. She turns her body to face him a little more and tucks in as close as possible even with her tummy pushing him away, then hugs into him as hard as she could muster. This time, her cheek can rest against his crown, like she’s able to protect him against the world. 

This finally makes him stir, stretch and reach over her further, pulling her in with a slight angle, drowsily accepting her neediness with no questions. 

“Don’t ever do that again for me.” She mumbles this to his hair, promises made to the dark. Even though it had been fabrications of her own mind, she knows there’s more truth in it than she’s comfortable with. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t need you protecting me if you’ll get hurt.” 

Rakan softly snores as a reply, feathers faintly glowing around their tips. She sighs and re-closes her eyes, prepared to return to an uneasy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! After this, prepare for things to maybe skip forward a bit maybe...? What sex do you want the baby to be? I'm always in between as to what I want because either has it's pros and cons.
> 
> We had a little drama, hopefully things will go back to fluff again for a while.....  
> For those of you waiting on the first time fic, that one is also pretty much done, just awaiting me to proofread it and whatever.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! <3 <3 I honestly melt

**Author's Note:**

> I'll work hard and try to get better at writing the birds! Hopefully I'll improve as I go through this, then can come back and edit more after... I find Rakan especially hard to write, even if I understand his deal it's still hard to write him accurately. So I'm basically just suffering haha. But it's _fun_ suffering. But anyway... see you all in a little bit!


End file.
